Poems Selected from Percy Bysshe Shelley
C. Kegan Paul, 1880 - 394 من الصفحات
This book contains a selection of Percy Shelley's poetry. The collection is arranged chronologically and includes an introduction by Richard Garnett.
ما يقوله الناس - كتابة مراجعة
لم نعثر على أي مراجعات في الأماكن المعتادة.
طبعات أخرى - عرض جميع المقتطفات
Adonais ANTISTROPHE Apennine art thou azure beams beauty beneath billows blue bowers breath bright brow burning calm cave cavern clouds cold Daemon dark dead dear death deep delight divine dome doth dream earth eternal EUGANEAN HILLS eyes faint fair fear fire flame fled fleeting river floating flowers folded palm gaze gentle gleam golden grave green grey heart heaven hope hopes and fears hues human isles kiss lady leaves light lips living lone Maenad mighty mingled mist moon morning motion mountains mute music never night nursling o'er ocean odour painted veil pale PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY rain Revolt of Islam rocks round shadow silent sleep smile soft song soul sound spirit splendour stars strange stream sweet swift tears thee thine things thou art thought tower tremble veil voice wandering waves weep Whilst wild wind wind-flowers wings woods
الصفحة 171 - 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.
الصفحة 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...
الصفحة 306 - 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.
الصفحة 308 - 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.
الصفحة 336 - 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...
الصفحة 318 - 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...
الصفحة 359 - 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.
الصفحة 259 - 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.
الصفحة 358 - 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.
الصفحة 146 - 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!