The Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley, 3-4±ÇHoughton, Mifflin, 1855 |
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49 ÆäÀÌÁö
... weep ; Embrace fond woe , or cast our cares away : It is the same ! —for , be it joy or sorrow , The path of its departure still is free ; Man's yesterday may ne'er be like his morrow ; Nought may endure but Mutability . ON DEATH ...
... weep ; Embrace fond woe , or cast our cares away : It is the same ! —for , be it joy or sorrow , The path of its departure still is free ; Man's yesterday may ne'er be like his morrow ; Nought may endure but Mutability . ON DEATH ...
94 ÆäÀÌÁö
... , Which he so feebly calls - they all are gone ! Fond wretch , all dead , those vacant names alone . This most familiar scene , my pain- These tombs alone remain . Misery , my sweetest friend - O ! weep no 04 DEATH .
... , Which he so feebly calls - they all are gone ! Fond wretch , all dead , those vacant names alone . This most familiar scene , my pain- These tombs alone remain . Misery , my sweetest friend - O ! weep no 04 DEATH .
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Percy Bysshe Shelley Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley. Misery , my sweetest friend - O ! weep no more ! Thou wilt not be consoled - I wonder not ; For I have seen thee from thy dwelling's door Watch the calm sunset with them , and this spot ...
Percy Bysshe Shelley Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley. Misery , my sweetest friend - O ! weep no more ! Thou wilt not be consoled - I wonder not ; For I have seen thee from thy dwelling's door Watch the calm sunset with them , and this spot ...
106 ÆäÀÌÁö
... Seeks yet its lost repose in thee . I share thy crime . I cannot choose But weep for thee : mine own strange grief But seldom stoops to such relief ; Nor ever did I love thee less , Though mourning 106 ROSALIND AND HELEN .
... Seeks yet its lost repose in thee . I share thy crime . I cannot choose But weep for thee : mine own strange grief But seldom stoops to such relief ; Nor ever did I love thee less , Though mourning 106 ROSALIND AND HELEN .
107 ÆäÀÌÁö
... weep that thou Shouldst love me still , -thou only ! -There , Let us sit on that gray stone , Till our mournful talk be done . HELEN . Alas ! not there ; I cannot bear The murmur of this lake to hear . A sound from thee , Rosalind dear ...
... weep that thou Shouldst love me still , -thou only ! -There , Let us sit on that gray stone , Till our mournful talk be done . HELEN . Alas ! not there ; I cannot bear The murmur of this lake to hear . A sound from thee , Rosalind dear ...
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Anarchs ANTISTROPHE Apennine art thou azure beams beautiful beneath blood bosom bowers brain breast breath bright burning calm cave cavern chidden child CHORUS clouds cold CYCLOPS CYPRIAN D¨¡MON dark dead dear death deep delight divine dream earth eternal eyes faint fair fear fire flame flame transformed fled fleeting river flowers folded palm gentle golden grave gray green grew grief hair heart heaven hope Iona isle kiss lady leaves light lips living MAMMON mighty moon mortal mountains murmuring never night nursling o'er ocean odour pale Peter Bell Pisa poem PURGANAX rain round scorn SEMICHORUS Serchio shadow Shelley silent SILENUS sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit splendour stars stream sweet SWELLFOOT swift tears tempest thee thine things thou art thought ULYSSES veil voice wake wandering waves weep Whilst wild wind wind-flowers wings woods
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278 ÆäÀÌÁö - WILD West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being, Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing, Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red, Pestilence-stricken multitudes: O thou, Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed The winged seeds, where they lie cold and low, Each like a corpse within its grave, until Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth, and fill (Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air) With...
227 ÆäÀÌÁö - The breath whose might I have invoked in song Descends on me; my spirit's bark is driven, Far from the shore, far from the trembling throng Whose sails were never to the tempest given; The massy earth and sphered skies are riven! I am borne darkly, fearfully, afar; Whilst burning through the inmost veil of Heaven, The soul of Adonais, like a star, Beacons from the abode where the Eternal are.
326 ÆäÀÌÁö - The pale purple even Melts around thy flight ; Like a star of heaven, In the broad daylight, Thou art unseen, but yet I hear thy shrill delight.
280 ÆäÀÌÁö - 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. Be thou, Spirit fierce, My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one! Drive my dead thoughts over the universe Like withered leaves to quicken a new birth!
322 ÆäÀÌÁö - The sweet buds every one, When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, As she dances about the sun. I wield the flail of the lashing hail, And whiten the green plains under, And then again I dissolve it in rain, And laugh as I pass in thunder. I sift the snow on the mountains below, And their great pines groan aghast ; And all the night 'tis my pillow white, While I sleep in the arms of the blast.
99 ÆäÀÌÁö - And gray walls moulder round, on which dull Time Feeds, like slow fire upon a hoary brand ; And one keen pyramid with wedge sublime, Pavilioning the dust of him who planned This refuge for his memory, doth stand Like flame transformed to marble ; and beneath, A field is spread, on which a newer band Have pitched in Heaven's smile their camp of death Welcoming him we lose with scarce extinguished breath.
279 ÆäÀÌÁö - If I were a dead leaf thou mightest bear; If I were a swift cloud to fly with thee; A wave to pant beneath thy power, and share The impulse of thy strength, only less free Than thou, O uncontrollable!
327 ÆäÀÌÁö - 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.
198 ÆäÀÌÁö - I see the Deep's untrampled floor With green and purple seaweeds strown ; I see the waves upon the shore, Like light dissolved in star-showers, thrown : I sit upon the sands alone, — The lightning of the noontide ocean Is flashing round me, and a tone Arises from its measured motion, How sweet! did any heart now share in my emotion. in Alas! I have nor hope nor health, Nor peace within nor calm around...
279 ÆäÀÌÁö - The blue Mediterranean, where he lay, Lulled by the coil of his crystalline streams, Beside a pumice isle in Baiae's bay, And saw in sleep old palaces and towers Quivering within the wave's intenser day, All overgrown with azure moss, and flowers So sweet, the sense faints picturing them! — Thou For whose path the Atlantic's level powers Cleave themselves into chasms, while far below 46 The sea-blooms, and the oozy woods which wear The sapless foliage of the ocean, know Thy voice, and suddenly...