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abyss art thou Asia awaken azure beams beasts beautiful behold beneath blood blue breath bright bright snow burning burst calm canst Caucasus caverns caves chariot child clouds coursers curse dark dead death deep delight Demogorgon didst dream Earth echoes eyes faint fear fire float flowers folded Fury gaze gentle gleam golden green hate hear heart heaven Hours Ione Jupiter lifted light lips living looks Maenad mighty mist moon morning mountains Nereids night Nurslings o'er ocean odour pain pale Panthea PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY plumes Prometheus PROMETHEUS UNBOUND rain round ruin Semichorus Sensitive Plant shadow shapes sister slaves sleep smiles soft song soul sound speak sphere stars stream sweet swift tears tempest thee Thetis thine things thou art thought thro throne thunder trample tyger vapours veil voice wandering waves whirlwind wind wind-flowers wings
Page 200 - I am the daughter of Earth and Water, And the nursling of the Sky; I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores; I change, but I cannot die. For after the rain when with never a stain, The pavilion of heaven is bare, And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams, Build up the blue dome of air, I silently laugh at my own cenotaph, And out of the caverns of rain, Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb, I arise and unbuild it again.
Page 203 - 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. Like a poet hidden In the light of thought, Singing hymns unbidden, Till the world is wrought To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not...
Page 197 - Over earth and ocean with gentle motion, This pilot is guiding me, Lured by the love of the genii that move In the depths of the purple sea ; Over the rills, and the crags, and the hills, Over the lakes and the plains, Wherever he dream, under mountain or stream, The spirit he loves remains ; And I all the while bask in heaven's blue smile, Whilst he is dissolving in rains. The sanguine sunrise, with his meteor eyes, And his burning plumes outspread, Leaps on the back of my sailing rack, When the...
Page 202 - Keen as are the arrows Of that silver sphere, Whose intense lamp narrows In the white dawn clear Until we hardly see — we feel that it is there...
Page 206 - 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. Better than all measures Of delightful sound, Better than all treasures That in books are found, Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground ! Teach me half the gladness That thy brain must know, Such harmonious madness From my lips would flow, The world should listen then, as I am listening now.
Page 196 - The sweet buds every one. When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, As she dances about the sun. I wield the flail of the lashing hail, And whiten the green plains under, And then again I dissolve it in rain, And laugh as I pass in thunder.
Page 191 - So sweet the sense faints picturing them ! Thou For whose path the Atlantic's level powers Cleave themselves into chasms, while far below The sea-blooms and the oozy woods which wear The sapless foliage of the ocean know Thy voice, and suddenly grow grey with fear, And tremble and despoil themselves : Oh hear ! IV.
Page 199 - May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof, The Stars peep behind her and peer. And I laugh to see them whirl and flee Like a swarm of golden bees, When I widen the rent in my wind-built tent,— Till the calm rivers, lakes, and seas, Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high, Are each paved with the moon and these.
Page 198 - The sanguine Sunrise, with his meteor eyes, And his burning plumes outspread, Leaps on the back of my sailing rack, When the morning star shines dead ; As on the jag of a mountain crag, Which an earthquake rocks and swings, An eagle alit one moment may sit In the light of its golden wings.
Page 188 - O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being, Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing, Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red, Pestilence-stricken multitudes: O thou, Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed The winged seeds, where they lie cold and low, Each like a corpse within its grave, until Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow Her clarion" o'er the dreaming earth, and...