Poems by Percy Bysshe Shelley

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Charles The First

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

King Charles I.

Queen Henrietta.

Laud, Archbishop of Canterbury.

Wentworth, Earl of Strafford.

Lord Cottington.

Lord Weston.

Lord Coventry.

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

A Widow Bird Sate Mourning For Her Love

A widow bird sate mourning for her Love

Upon a wintry bough;

The frozen wind crept on above,

The freezing stream below.

There was no leaf upon the forest bare,

No flower upon the ground,

And little motion in the air

Except the mill-wheel's sound.

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

I Arise from Dreams of Thee

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

Has led me — who knows how? —

To thy chamber-window, sweet!

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

To-- One word is too often profaned

One word is too often profaned

For me to profane it,

One feeling too falsely disdained

For thee to disdain it;

One hope is too like despair

For prudence to smother,

And pity from thee more dear

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

Good-Night

Good-night? ah! no; the hour is ill

Which severs those it should unite;

Let us remain together still,

Then it will be GOOD night.

II.

How can I call the lone night good,

Though thy sweet wishes wing its flight?

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

Autumn: A Dirge

The warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing,

The bare boughs are sighing, the pale flowers are dying,

And the Year

On the earth her death-bed, in a shroud of leaves dead,

Is lying.

Come, Months, come away,

From November to May,

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

Mont Blanc: Lines Written In The Vale of Chamouni

The everlasting universe of things

Flows through the mind, and rolls its rapid waves,

Now dark—now glittering--now reflecting gloom--

Now lending splendour, where from secret springs

The source of human thought its tribute brings

Of waters--with a sound but half its own,

Such as a feeble brook will oft assume,

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

The Revolt Of Islam: Canto I-XII

DEDICATION

TO MARY —- —-

There is no danger to a man, that knowsWhat life and death is: there's not any lawExceeds his knowledge; neither is it lawfulThat he should stoop to any other law.

—Chapman.

So now my summer task is ended, Mary,

And I return to thee, mine own heart's home;

As to his Queen some victor Knight of Faëry,

Percy Bysshe Shelley

Bereavement

How stern are the woes of the desolate mourner

As he bends in still grief o'er the hallowed bier,

As enanguished he turns from the laugh of the scorner,

And drops to perfection's remembrance a tear;

When floods of despair down his pale cheeks are streaming,

When no blissful hope on his bosom is beaming,

Or, if lulled for a while, soon he starts from his dreaming,

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

The Indian Serenade

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? —

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

Alastor: or, the Spirit of Solitude

Earth, Ocean, Air, belovèd brotherhood!

If our great Mother has imbued my soul

With aught of natural piety to feel

Your love, and recompense the boon with mine;

If dewy morn, and odorous noon, and even,

With sunset and its gorgeous ministers,

And solemn midnight's tingling silentness;

If Autumn's hollow sighs in the sere wood,

Percy Bysshe Shelley

An Exhortation

Chameleons feed on light and air:

Poets' food is love and fame:

If in this wide world of care

Poets could but find the same

With as little toil as they,

Would they ever change their hue

As the light chameleons do,

Suiting it to every ray

by Percy Bysshe Shelley