Poems Selected from Percy Bysshe Shelley
C. Kegan Paul & Company, 1880 - 394 pàgines
This book contains a selection of Percy Shelley's poetry. The collection is arranged chronologically and includes an introduction by Richard Garnett.
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beams beautiful beneath beside blood blue breath bright calm cave clear clouds cold dark dead death deep delight divine dream earth eternal eyes faint fair fear feel fire flame fled floating flow flowers gaze gentle gleam golden grave green grew hand hear heard heart heaven hope hues human isles Italy Lady leaves light lips living lone looked lost mighty mind moon morning motion mountains move never night o'er ocean once pain pale pass past poet rain rest rocks round seemed shadow shapes silent sleep smile soft song soon soul sound spirit spring stars strange stream sweet swift tears thee thine things thou thou art thought tower truth vast veil voice wandering waste waters waves weep wide wild wind wings woods
Pàgina 185 - Keen as are the arrows Of that silver sphere, Whose intense lamp narrows In the white dawn clear, Until we hardly see, we feel that it is there.
Pàgina 93 - Nothing / beside / remains. // Round the decay Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare, / The lone and level sands / stretch far away. JOHN GIELGUD'S PAUSES: I met a traveller from an antique land Who said: // Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert. // Near them, on the sand, / Half sunk, / a...
Pàgina 327 - That light whose smile kindles the Universe, That Beauty in which all things work and move, That Benediction which the eclipsing Curse Of birth can quench not, that sustaining Love Which through the web of being blindly wove By man and beast and earth and air and sea, Burns bright or dim, as each are mirrors of The fire for which all thirst, now beams on me, Consuming the last clouds of cold mortality.
Pàgina 180 - I BRING fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, From the seas and the streams ; I bear light shade for the leaves when laid In their noon-day dreams. From my wings are shaken the dews that waken The sweet buds every one, When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, As she dances about the sun.
Pàgina 157 - Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is: What if my leaves are falling like its own ! The tumult of thy mighty harmonies Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone, Sweet though in sadness.
Pàgina 156 - So sweet, the sense faints picturing them! Thou For whose path the Atlantic's level powers Cleave themselves into chasms, while far below The sea-blooms and the oozy woods which wear The sapless foliage of the ocean, know Thy voice, and suddenly grow grey with fear, And tremble and despoil themselves: oh, hear!
Pàgina 143 - Nor fame, nor power, nor love, nor leisure. Others I see whom these surround — Smiling they live, and call life pleasure ; To me that cup has been dealt in another measure.
Pàgina 155 - mid the steep sky's commotion, Loose clouds like earth's decaying leaves are shed, Shook from the tangled boughs of heaven and ocean, Angels of rain and lightning ! there are spread On the blue surface of thine airy surge, Like the bright hair uplifted from the head Of some fierce Maenad, even from the dim verge Of the horizon to the zenith's height, The locks of the approaching storm.
Pàgina 305 - Yet wherefore? Quench within their burning bed Thy fiery tears, and let thy loud heart keep Like his a mute and uncomplaining sleep; For he is gone where all things wise and fair Descend. Oh, dream not that the amorous Deep Will yet restore him to the vital air; Death feeds on his mute voice, and laughs at our despair.