O my love, crown prince of the romantics,
The Sensitive Plant made me fall in love with you
and opened these eyes to the world outside,
how the young wind feeds the green plants with silver dew!
Then I met the high king Ozymandias,
standing in despair on his massive feet of stone.
All around him stretched the vast seas of sand,
his sculpture, in heaps, reveled in the sight, alone!
Then I came home To A Skylark from you,
o, thou blithe spirit from heaven, thy shrill delight!
It sang to me the sweetness of sorrows
and showed me how fretfully we human beings pine!
But where is the Spring you promised me in your Ode?
Why is the Winter eternal in my abode?
Nevertheless, in the end let me have your bliss ,
o my love, when I die make me thy Adonis!