#romantics

Incest, as Shelley's poetry had already shown, was a common Romantic theme. Indeed, while Mary was writing about Mathilda, Shelley was upstairs working on a tale of father/daughter incest, a play he would call The Cenci, based on a historical story he and Mary had discovered together.

‘There is something at work in my soul, which I do not understand’

Looking back, I should have died right there and then In your arms, For the first time content.

We were Love incarnate, and Love is the only argument Why I should not have died right there and then.

There, In your arms, For that while under heaven's Luckiest stars, Tracing back the years, I realize, It was the only time in my life Lived in the complete absence Of the search, the questioning, the flight Toward, but without ever Finding, Hiding places.

All these jarring desires Simply were Non-existent.

Does it sound miserly, now?

Contentment.

Certainly when compared to our love, then, It must.

Yet since you left, the chasing Recommenced, And, so, The deterioration, The derangement;

The hunt for my troubled soul, until death.

There is So little left of me, now, I crave an end —

Another jarring desire, Haunting; whispering maddening guarantees Of lasting Contentment.