34. Percy Bysshe Shelley

My father who owned the wagon-shop

And grew rich shoeing horses

Sent me to the University of Montreal.

I learned nothing and returned home,

Roaming the fields with Bert Kessler,

Hunting quail and snipe.

At Thompson’s Lake the trigger of my gun

Caught in the side of the boat

And a great hole was shot through my heart.

Over me a fond father erected this marble shaft,

On which stands the figure of a woman

Carved by an Italian artist.

They say the ashes of my namesake

Were scattered near the pyramid of Caius Cestius

Somewhere near Rome.

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