Poem For Mary Shelley

I know I held your heart, my love
Until your dying day
And then I wore it round my neck
When you had passed away
And oft I held it to my own
It left me all aquiver
I’m glad that no-one told me
It was actually your liver

Author's note. I should perhaps point out, for them as don't know, that when Shelley drowned at the age of 30 his wife, Mary Shelley, was not with him. However as they burned his body - it is said - Byron (or some other romantic poet, I forget) reached into the flames and seized his heart. This he took back to Mary, who kept it with her until the day she died. It has since been suggested that it probably wasn't his heart at all, but was in fact his liver. This anecdote, for me, sums up the Romantic movement entirely. It's extremely beautiful, rather touching, and based on an enormous misconception