Posthumous Poems of Percy Bysshe ShelleyJohn and Henry L. Hunt, 1824 - 415 páginas This volume was published just two years after Shelley's death. It collects some of his final poems, including unfinished works. Shelley's wife, Mary, was responsible for assembling the collection, and she also provides a revealing introduction. |
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Página 34
... clear and sweet , whose healthful might Could medicine the sick soul to happy sleep , And change eternal death into a night Of glorious dreams — or if eyes needs must weep , Could make their tears all wonder and delight , She in her ...
... clear and sweet , whose healthful might Could medicine the sick soul to happy sleep , And change eternal death into a night Of glorious dreams — or if eyes needs must weep , Could make their tears all wonder and delight , She in her ...
Página 54
... some envious skill , Were torn apart , a wide wound , mind from mind ! She did unite again with visions clear Of deep affection and of truth sincere . LXXVIII . These were the pranks she played among the 54 THE WITCH OF ATLAS .
... some envious skill , Were torn apart , a wide wound , mind from mind ! She did unite again with visions clear Of deep affection and of truth sincere . LXXVIII . These were the pranks she played among the 54 THE WITCH OF ATLAS .
Página 64
... clear Than ours must ever be ; —and how we spun A shroud of talk to hide us from the sun Of this familiar life , which seems to be But is not , or is but quaint mockery - Of all we would believe ; or sadly blame The jarring and ...
... clear Than ours must ever be ; —and how we spun A shroud of talk to hide us from the sun Of this familiar life , which seems to be But is not , or is but quaint mockery - Of all we would believe ; or sadly blame The jarring and ...
Página 74
... clear as when a veil of light is drawn O'er evening hills they glimmer ; and I knew That I had felt the freshness of that dawn , Bathed in the same cold dew my brow and hair , And sate as thus upon that slope of lawn Under the self same ...
... clear as when a veil of light is drawn O'er evening hills they glimmer ; and I knew That I had felt the freshness of that dawn , Bathed in the same cold dew my brow and hair , And sate as thus upon that slope of lawn Under the self same ...
Página 86
... clear air , in its calm sweep " Bent the soft grass , and kept forever wet The stems of the sweet flowers , and filled the grove With sounds , which whoso hears must needs forget " All pleasure and all pain , all hate and love , Which ...
... clear air , in its calm sweep " Bent the soft grass , and kept forever wet The stems of the sweet flowers , and filled the grove With sounds , which whoso hears must needs forget " All pleasure and all pain , all hate and love , Which ...
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Términos y frases comunes
Anarchs ANTISTROPHE Apennine art thou Baubo beams beast beauty beneath breath bright burning calm cave cavern chasm chidden CHORUS clouds cold CYCLOPS CYPRIAN DÆMON dance dark dead death deep delight DEMON desart divine dream earth EPODE eyes faint FAUST fear fierce fire fled flowers folded palm forest gaze gentle gleam green grew grey grief hair hear heart heaven Hermes JUSTINA kiss Lady leaves light lips living love waves Maddalo MEPHISTOPHELES mighty MONT BLANC moon mortal mountains move NAPLES never night o'er ocean Onchestus pale pine Pisa Pylos rocks round sate Satyr seemed shadows shapes shore SILENUS sleep smile snow soft song soul sound spirit stars strange stream sweet swift tears tempest thee thine things thou art thought ULYSSES vale veil voice wake wandering waves weep Whilst wild wild arms wind wings woods
Pasajes populares
Página 195 - 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.
Página 194 - 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.
Página 165 - 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.
Página 285 - The windings of the dell. — The rivulet, Wanton and wild, through many a green ravine Beneath the forest flowed. Sometimes it fell Among the moss, with hollow harmony Dark and profound. Now on the polished stones It danced ; like childhood, laughing as it went : Then, through the plain in tranquil wanderings crept, Reflecting every herb and drooping bud \ That overhung its quietness.
Página 276 - While day-light held The sky, the Poet kept mute conference With his still soul. At night the passion came, Like the fierce fiend of a distempered dream, And shook him from his rest, and led him forth Into the darkness.
Página 23 - Most wretched men Are cradled into poetry by wrong: They learn in suffering what they teach in song.
Página 81 - The great, the unforgotten, — they who wore Mitres and helms and crowns, or wreaths of light, Signs of thought's empire over thought. Their lore "Taught them not this, to know themselves ; their might Could not repress the mystery within ; And, for the morn of truth they feigned, deep night
Página 274 - His languid limbs. A vision on his sleep There came, a dream of hopes that never yet Had flushed his cheek. He dreamed a veiled maid Sate near him, talking in low solemn tones. Her voice was like the voice of his own soul Heard in the calm of thought...
Página 8 - Dissolved into one lake of fire, were seen Those mountains towering as from waves of flame Around the vaporous sun, from which there came The inmost purple spirit of light, and made Their very peaks transparent 'Ere it fade,' Said my companion, 'I will show you soon A better station...
Página 263 - To the Moon Art thou pale for weariness Of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth, Wandering companionless Among the stars that have a different birth, — And ever changing, like a joyless eye That finds no object worth its constancy?