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Percy Bysshe Shelley

A Serpent-Face

His face was like a snake's -- wrinkled and loose
And withered--

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Death In Life

My head is heavy, my limbs are weary,
And it is not life that makes me move.

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Rome And Nature

Rome has fallen, ye see it lying
Heaped in undistinguished ruin:
Nature is alone undying.

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May The Limner

When May is painting with her colours gay
The landscape sketched by April her sweet twin...

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Life Rounded With Sleep

The babe is at peace within the womb;
The corpse is at rest within the tomb:
We begin in what we end.

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Beauty's Halo

Thy beauty hangs around thee like
Splendour around the moon--
Thy voice, as silver bells that strike
Upon...

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The Rude Wind Is Singing

The rude wind is singing
The dirge of the music dead;
The cold worms are clinging
Where kisses were lately fed.

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The Death Knell Is Ringing

The death knell is ringing
The raven is singing
The earth worm is creeping
The mourners are weeping
Ding dong, bell--

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Another Fragment to Music

No, Music, thou art not the 'food of Love.'
Unless Love feeds upon its own sweet self,
Till it becomes all Music murmurs of.

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Fragment: Omens

Hark! the owlet flaps his wings
In the pathless dell beneath;
Hark! 'tis the night-raven sings
Tidings of approaching death.

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