Percy Bysshe Shelley: Всі вірші поета

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A Summer Evening Churchyard: Lechlade, Gloucestershire

The wind has swept from the wide atmosphere

Each vapour that obscured the sunset's ray;

And pallid Evening twines its beaming hair

In duskier braids around the languid eyes of Day:

Silence and Twilight, unbeloved of men,

Creep hand in hand from yon obscurest glen.

They breathe their spells towards the departing day,

Encompassing the earth, air, stars, and sea;

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

To Wordsworth

Poet of Nature, thou hast wept to know

That things depart which never may return:

Childhood and youth, friendship and love's first glow,

Have fled like sweet dreams, leaving thee to mourn.

These common woes I feel. One loss is mine

Which thou too feel'st, yet I alone deplore.

Thou wert as a lone star, whose light did shine

On some frail bark in winter's midnight roar:

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

The Witch Of Atlas

TO MARY

(ON HER OBJECTING TO THE FOLLOWING POEM, UPON THE SCORE OF ITS CONTAINING NO HUMAN INTEREST)

How, my dear Mary, -- are you critic-bitten

(For vipers kill, though dead) by some review,

That you condemn these verses I have written,

Because they tell no story, false or true?

What, though no mice are caught by a young kitten,

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

Lines: The cold earth slept below

The cold earth slept below;

Above the cold sky shone;

And all around,

With a chilling sound,

From caves of ice and fields of snow

The breath of night like death did flow

Beneath the sinking moon.

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

Arethusa

Arethusa arose

From her couch of snows

In the Acroceraunian mountains,--

From cloud and from crag,

With many a jag,

Shepherding her bright fountains.

She leapt down the rocks,

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

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?

II.

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

Mutability

We are as clouds that veil the midnight moon;

How restlessly they speed, and gleam, and quiver,

Streaking the darkness radiantly! — yet soon

Night closes round, and they are lost forever:

Or like forgotten lyres, whose dissonant strings

Give various response to each varying blast,

To whose frail frame no second motion brings

One mood or modulation like the last.

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

The Two Spirits: An Allegory

FIRST SPIRIT:

O thou, who plumed with strong desire

Wouldst float above the earth, beware!

A Shadow tracks thy flight of fire--

Night is coming!

Bright are the regions of the air,

And among the winds and beams

It were delight to wander there--

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

Art Thou Pale For Weariness

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?

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

Julian and Maddalo : A Conversation

I rode one evening with Count Maddalo

Upon the bank of land which breaks the flow

Of Adria towards Venice: a bare strand

Of hillocks, heaped from ever-shifting sand,

Matted with thistles and amphibious weeds,

Such as from earth's embrace the salt ooze breeds,

Is this; an uninhabited sea-side,

Which the lone fisher, when his nets are dried,

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

The Cloud

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 noonday 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.

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

Hymn to Intellectual Beauty

The awful shadow of some unseen Power

Floats through unseen among us, — visiting

This various world with as inconstant wing

As summer winds that creep from flower to flower,--

Like moonbeams that behind some piny mountain shower,

It visits with inconstant glance

Each human heart and countenance;

by Percy Bysshe Shelley