Poems selected from Percy Bysshe Shelley, with preface by R. Garnett |
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Page xviii
... thou " ( 1821 ) . In the first , style and melody divide attention with the feeling ; sympathy is almost impaired by admiration . In the second , style and melody , though not really less exquisite , are hardly observed ; and the ...
... thou " ( 1821 ) . In the first , style and melody divide attention with the feeling ; sympathy is almost impaired by admiration . In the second , style and melody , though not really less exquisite , are hardly observed ; and the ...
Page 12
... Thou hast a home , Beautiful bird ; thou voyagest to thine home , Where thy sweet mate will twine her downy neck With thine , and welcome thy return with eyes Bright in the lustre of their own fond joy . And what am I that I should ...
... Thou hast a home , Beautiful bird ; thou voyagest to thine home , Where thy sweet mate will twine her downy neck With thine , and welcome thy return with eyes Bright in the lustre of their own fond joy . And what am I that I should ...
Page 28
... thou art filed Like some frail exhalation ; which the dawn Robes in its golden beams , —ah ! thou hast fled ! The brave , the gentle , and the beautiful , The child of grace and genius . Heartless things Are done and said i ' the world ...
... thou art filed Like some frail exhalation ; which the dawn Robes in its golden beams , —ah ! thou hast fled ! The brave , the gentle , and the beautiful , The child of grace and genius . Heartless things Are done and said i ' the world ...
Page 29
... thou art fled - Thou canst no longer know or love the shapes Of this phantasmal scene , who have to thee Been purest ministers , who are , alas ! Now thou art not . Upon those pallid lips So sweet even in their silence , on those eyes ...
... thou art fled - Thou canst no longer know or love the shapes Of this phantasmal scene , who have to thee Been purest ministers , who are , alas ! Now thou art not . Upon those pallid lips So sweet even in their silence , on those eyes ...
Page 30
... thou turned fom men thy lonely feet . With mountain winds , and babbing springs , And moonlight stas , that are the voice Of these inexpicable things Thou didst hold commune , and rejoice When they did answer thee ; but they Cast , like ...
... thou turned fom men thy lonely feet . With mountain winds , and babbing springs , And moonlight stas , that are the voice Of these inexpicable things Thou didst hold commune , and rejoice When they did answer thee ; but they Cast , like ...
Common terms and phrases
beams beautiful beneath blood blue breath bright brow calm clear clouds cold dark dead dear death deep delight dream earth eternal eyes fair fear feel feet fire flame fled floating flow flowers gaze gentle gleam golden grave green grew hand happy head hear heart heaven hope hues human isles Italy kiss lady land leaves light lips living lone looks lost mighty mind moon morning motion mountains move nature never night o'er ocean once pain pale pass past rain rest rocks round seemed shadow shapes silent sleep smile soft song soul sound spirit spread spring stars strange stream sweet tears thee thine things thou thou art thought towers truth vast veil voice wandering waste waters waves weep wide wild winds wings woods
Popular passages
Page 175 - What thou art we know not ; What is most like thee ? From rainbow clouds there flow not Drops so bright to see, As from thy presence showers a rain of melody.
Page 89 - 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...
Page 318 - Peace, peace ! he is not dead, he doth not sleep — He hath awakened from the dream of life — 'Tis we, who, lost in stormy visions, keep With phantoms an unprofitable strife, And in mad trance strike with our spirit's knife Invulnerable nothings.
Page 320 - His part, while the one Spirit's plastic stress Sweeps through the dull dense world, compelling there, All new successions to the forms they wear; Torturing th' unwilling dross that checks its flight To its own likeness, as each mass may bear; And bursting in its beauty and its might From trees and beasts and men into the Heaven's light.
Page 340 - I can give not what men call love, But wilt thou accept not The worship the heart lifts above And the Heavens reject not, The desire of the moth for the star, Of the night for the morrow, The devotion to something afar From the sphere of our sorrow...
Page 323 - I sighed for thee ; When light rode high, and the dew was gone, And noon lay heavy on flower and tree, And the weary Day turned to his rest Lingering like an unloved guest, I sighed for thee. Thy brother Death came, and cried Wouldst thou me...
Page 363 - Its passions will rock thee As the storms rock the ravens on high ; Bright reason will mock thee, Like the sun from a wintry sky. From thy nest every rafter Will rot, and thine eagle home Leave thee naked to laughter, When leaves fall and cold winds come.
Page 265 - Philosophy The fountains mingle with the river And the rivers with the Ocean, The winds of Heaven mix for ever With a sweet emotion; Nothing in the world is single; All things by a law divine In one another's being mingle.
Page 362 - WHEN the lamp is shattered The light in the dust lies dead — When the cloud is scattered The rainbow's glory is shed. When the lute is broken, Sweet tones are remembered not ; When the lips have spoken, Loved accents are soon forgot. As music and splendour Survive not the lamp and the lute, The heart's echoes render No song when the spirit is mute : — No song but sad dirges, Like the wind through a ruined cell, Or the mournful surges That ring the dead seaman's knell.
Page 148 - I arise from dreams of thee In the first sweet sleep of night, When the winds are breathing low, And the stars are shining bright: I arise from dreams of thee, And a spirit in my feet Hath led me — who knows how? To thy chamber window, Sweet! The wandering airs they faint On the dark, the silent stream — The Champak odours fail Like sweet thoughts in a dream; The nightingale's complaint, It dies upon her heart; — As I must on thine, Oh, beloved as thou art!