Fragment: 'When a Lover Clasps His Fairest'
Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Poetical Works", 1839, 2nd edition.
1. When a lover clasps his fairest, Then be our dread sport the rarest. Their caresses were like the chaff In the tempest, and be our laugh His despair—her epitaph!
2. When a mother clasps her child, Watch till dusty Death has piled His cold ashes on the clay; She has loved it many a day— She remains,—it fades away.