The Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley, Bind 2Houghton, Osgood, 1855 |
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Side 49
... wandering thought pollutes the day ; We feel , conceive or reason , laugh or 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 ...
... wandering thought pollutes the day ; We feel , conceive or reason , laugh or 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 ...
Side 60
... wandering veins And weak articulations might be seen Day's ruddy light . The tomb of thy dead self Which one vexed ghost inhabits , night and day , Is all , lost child , that now remains of thee ! " Inheritor of more than earth can give ...
... wandering veins And weak articulations might be seen Day's ruddy light . The tomb of thy dead self Which one vexed ghost inhabits , night and day , Is all , lost child , that now remains of thee ! " Inheritor of more than earth can give ...
Side 66
... wandering wings Now float above thy darkness , and now rest Where that or thou art no unbidden guest , In the still cave of the witch Poesy , Seeking among the shadows that pass by , Ghosts of all things that are , some shade of thee ...
... wandering wings Now float above thy darkness , and now rest Where that or thou art no unbidden guest , In the still cave of the witch Poesy , Seeking among the shadows that pass by , Ghosts of all things that are , some shade of thee ...
Side 99
... wander With short unsteady steps - to pause and ponder- To feel the blood run through the veins and tingle Where busy thought and blind sensation mingle ; To nurse the image of unfelt caresses Till dim imagination just possesses The ...
... wander With short unsteady steps - to pause and ponder- To feel the blood run through the veins and tingle Where busy thought and blind sensation mingle ; To nurse the image of unfelt caresses Till dim imagination just possesses The ...
Side 109
... wandering , To a deep lawny dell they came , To a stone seat beside a spring , O'er which the columned wood did frame A roofless temple like the fane Where , ere new creeds could faith obtain , Man's early race once knelt beneath The ...
... wandering , To a deep lawny dell they came , To a stone seat beside a spring , O'er which the columned wood did frame A roofless temple like the fane Where , ere new creeds could faith obtain , Man's early race once knelt beneath The ...
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Almindelige termer og sætninger
Adonais ANTISTROPHE Apennine art thou azure beams beautiful beneath blood bosom bowers brain breast breath bright calm cave child clouds cold dark dead death deep delight divine dream earth eternal eyes faint fair fear flame flowers folded palm gentle Gisborne gleam grave gray green grew grief hair heart heaven hope Iona isle Italy kiss lady leaves Leigh Hunt light lips living looked Maddalo MAMMON MASQUE OF ANARCHY mighty mind moon mountains murmuring NAPLES never night nursling o'er ocean odour pain pale Peter Bell Pisa poem PURGANAX rain Rosalind round scorn SEMICHORUS Sensitive-Plant Serchio shadow Shelley sleep smile soft soul sound spirit stars stream sweet SWELLFOOT swift tears tempest thee thine things thou art thought tomb tower truth twas tyrants veil Venice voice wandering waves weep Whilst wild wind wind-flowers wings words
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Side 326 - Teach us, sprite or bird, What sweet thoughts are thine: I have never heard Praise of love or wine That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine.
Side 99 - Thy sweet child Sleep, the filmy-eyed, Murmured like a noontide bee, Shall I nestle near thy side? Wouldst thou me? — And I replied, No, not thee! Death will come when thou art dead, Soon, too soon — Sleep will come when thou art fled; Of neither would I ask the boon I ask of thee, beloved Night— Swift be thine approaching flight, Come soon, soon!
Side 90 - He wakes or sleeps with the enduring dead ; Thou canst not soar where he is sitting now. Dust to the dust, but the pure spirit shall flow Back to the burning fountain whence it came, A portion of the Eternal, which must glow Through time and change, unquenchably the same, Whilst thy cold embers choke the sordid hearth of shame.
Side 138 - 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...
Side 322 - That orbed maiden , with white fire laden, Whom mortals call the moon, Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor, By the midnight breezes strewn...
Side 94 - Oh! not of him, but of our joy: 'tis nought That ages, empires, and religions there Lie buried in the ravage they have wrought; For such as he can lend, — they borrow not Glory from those who made the world their prey; And he is gathered to the kings of thought Who waged contention with their time's decay, And of the past are all that cannot pass away.
Side 319 - 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.
Side 165 - 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.
Side 327 - Yet if we could scorn Hate, and pride, and fear; If we were things born Not to shed a tear, I know not how thy joy we ever should come near.
Side 321 - 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.