Fragment: The Lake's Margin
The fierce beasts of the woods and wildernesses
Track not the steps of him who drinks of it;
For the light breezes, which for ever fleet
Around its margin, heap the sand thereon.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Fragment: There Is A Warm And Gentle Atmosphere
There is a warm and gentle atmosphere
About the form of one we love, and thus
As in a tender mist our spirits are
Wrapped in the of that which is to us
The health of life’s own life--
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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O Thou Immortal Deity
O thou immortal deity
Whose throne is in the depth of human thought,
I do adjure thy power and thee
By all that man may be, by all that he is not,
By all that he has been and yet must be!
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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I Faint, I Perish With My Love!
I faint, I perish with my love! I grow
Frail as a cloud whose [splendours] pale
Under the evening's ever-changing glow:
I die like mist upon the gale,
And like a wave under the calm I fail
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Mighty Eagle
Mighty eagle! thou that soarest
O'er the misty mountain forest,
And amid the light of morning
Like a cloud of glory hiest,
And when night descends defiest
The embattled tempests’ warning!
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Fragment Of A Sonnet : To Harriet
Ever as now with Love and Virtue's glow
May thy unwithering soul not cease to burn,
Still may thine heart with those pure thoughts o'erflow
Which force from mine such quick and warm return.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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The Viewless And Invisible Consequence
The viewless and invisible Consequence
Watches thy goings-out, and comings-in,
And...hovers o'er thy guilty sleep,
Unveiling every new-born deed, and thoughts
More ghastly than those deeds--
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Epitaph
These are two friends whose lives were undivided;
So let their memory be, now they have glided
Under the grave; let not their bones be parted,
For their two hearts in life were single-hearted.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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A Fragment: To Music
Silver key of the fountain of tears,
Where the spirit drinks till the brain is wild;
Softest grave of a thousand fears,
Where their mother, Care, like a drowsy child,
Is laid asleep in flowers.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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On Fanny Godwin
Her voice did quiver as we parted,
Yet knew I not that heart was broken
From which it came, and I departed
Heeding not the words then spoken.
Misery--O Misery,
This world is all too wide for thee.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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