Percy Bysshe Shelley’s speaker mourns a departure swifter than summer, youth, or a happy night. Whatever fled—a lover, friend, or youth itself—proved false, leaving the speaker as barren as earth with dead leaves, as empty as a sleepless night, as joyless as a heart bereft. The swallows and night return, but the “wild-swan youth” does not. Each day brings longing for tomorrow, yet sleep only deepens sorrow; the speaker’s winter heart can find no sunny leaf on any branch. In the final stanza, bridal lilies, matron roses, and maiden violets give way to pansies, flowers of remembrance, for the speaker’s own “living grave.” This grief is so complete that even sympathy is refused—friends should scatter the flowers without tears, wasting not a single hope or fear. The mood is hollow, still, and resigned: a quiet self-burial in which the only lingering presence is sorrow itself.
Remembrance — Summary
Swifter far than summer's flight-- Swifter far than youth's delight-- Swifter far than happy night, Art thou come and gone-- As the earth when leaves are dead, As the night when sleep is sped, As the heart when joy is fled, I am left lone, alone.
The swallow summer comes again-- The owlet night resumes her reign-- But the wild-swan youth is fain To fly with thee, false as thou.-- My heart each day desires the morrow; Sleep itself is turned to sorrow; Vainly would my winter borrow Sunny leaves from any bough.
Lilies for a bridal bed-- Roses for a matron's head-- Violets for a maiden dead-- Pansies let MY flowers be: On the living grave I bear Scatter them without a tear-- Let no friend, however dear, Waste one hope, one fear for me.