been left
for him at the post,
so he must be on his way.
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GENEVA
May 1816
We take a suite of rooms
at the Hôtel d’Angleterre
on the outskirts of Geneva.
Claire cannot be contented
as she visits the post office
daily only to find that Byron
has not yet arrived.
Shelley and I feel as happy
as fledgling birds,
without a care as to what twig
we fly. I have found new wings
here. The Alps entrance
and energize me. We rent
a small sailboat and do not
return until ten in the evening,
reading and writing all day.
We translate my father’s
“Political Justice” into French,
and I am writing a children’s
book for Father to publish.
This is the land
where Milton, Voltaire,
and Rousseau have lived.
One breathes literature here.
And I am in love with it.
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THE ARRIVAL OF THE GREAT POET
May 25, 1816
Byron travels in a huge carriage
modeled after one Napoleon designed,
complete with a bed,
pulled by ten horses.
He attracts crowds along his route.
And he is rumored to have taken
a liking to a few chambermaids
during his passage. He travels
with his longtime valet, Fletcher,
and his personal physician,
John Polidori, who also has
literary aspirations and writes
an account of his travels with the great poet.
As soon as Byron arrives at the hotel,
where he signs in as being
one hundred years old, I imagine
weary from travel,
Claire besieges Byron with letters.
She follows his every move
for two days and then
accosts him as he returns
from a boat trip,
Shelley and I as unknowing
accomplices.
The great poet
and my Shelley get on splendidly
at first meeting
as if they had been childhood friends.
Byron and Shelley
look very opposite,
Shelley fair and Byron dark.
The younger Shelley frail,
while Byron at twenty-eight
stands more robust and athletic.
Shelley’s voice pitches high
as a schoolboy’s
while Byron’s is bass and dramatic
as the scenery.
One might imagine them
to be too different to get along
and yet they seem to fit
as light and shadow.
Byron invites Shelley to dinner.
Claire and I are not to be
in attendance.
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OUR GROUP OF FIVE
June 1816
Well it seems
that our community
shall be a group of five
this summer—
Shelley, Byron, Claire, Polidori,
and me.
Shelley and Byron boat
around the lake
and my Shelley tells me
how they have discussed
all manner of art, literature,
science, politics, and philosophy.
I try not to feel envy
that I spend my day
listening to Claire despair
that she has not shared
enough company with Lord Byron.
She asks me what to do
to make him desire her more,
and I scratch my head.
Her persistent cawing
does little to improve
her position I think,
but I am proven wrong
and Byron invites her
to his side one evening.
I stick firmly to my regimen
of reading and writing
to keep me sane.
My little baby
William thrives in this climate.
I feel something begin
to stir inside me here
amidst the mountains,
and it is not a child.
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A STIRRING
June 1816
Like the quiet before
a storm, something
brews within me.
It is as if I awaken
from a dream
without language
into a landscape
of words.
The people
and topography,
both grand and inspiring,
envelop me.
I hear a voice
and know it to be
my own.
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STORMS IN GENEVA
June 1816
We transfer from the hotel
to a waterside cottage
called Maison Chapuis
on the southern shore
where Shelley and Byron
can keep a boat.
The storms here
Julie Frayn
Joshua David Bellin
Staci Hart
Andie M. Long
Lola Taylor
Jan Karon
Jessi Talbot
Lili St. Crow
James Maxwell
Evelyn Glass