Poeticous Logo
fr
English Español Français Italiano
Percy Shelley

Percy Shelley

I Stood Upon a Heaven

I stood upon a heaven-cleaving turret
Which overlooked a wide Metropolis—
And in the temple of my heart my Spirit
Lay prostrate, and with parted lips did kiss
The dust of Desolations [altar] hearth—
And with a voice too faint to falter
It shook that trembling fane with its weak prayer
'Twas noon,—the sleeping skies were blue
The city...

#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury

1
Vous avez aimé cette lecture ? Offrez-nous un café !.
Votre aide nous permet d'exister.
Préféré par...
Autres oeuvres par Percy Shelley...
Song of Proserpine While Gathering Flowers on the Plain of Enna

Sacred Goddess, Mother Earth, Thou from whose immortal bosom Gods and men and beasts have birth… Leaf and blade, and bud and blosso… Breathe thine influence most divin…
On a Fete at Carlton House: Fragment

By the mossy brink, With me the Prince shall sit and… Shall muse in visioned Regency, Rapt in bright dreams of dawning…
Song. Sorrow

To me this world’s a dreary blank, All hopes in life are gone and fle… My high strung energies are sank, And all my blissful hopes lie dead… The world once smiling to my view,
Hellas: Chorus

The world’s great age begins anew, The golden years return, The earth doth like a snake renew Her winter weeds outworn: Heaven smiles, and faiths and empi…
 1
Epitaph

These are two friends whose lives… So let their memory be, now they h… Under the grave; let not their bon… For their two hearts in life were…
Fragment: The Vine-Shroud

Flourishing vine, whose kindling c… Beneath the autumnal sun, none tas… For thou dost shroud a ruin, and b… The rotting bones of dead antiquit…
 1
On Death

The pale, the cold, and the moony… Which the meteor beam of a starles… Sheds on a lonely and sea-girt isl… Ere the dawning of morn’s undoubte… Is the flame of life so fickle and…
The Green Sofa, by Sir John Lavery
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,
 3
The Irishman’s Song

The stars may dissolve, and the fo… May sink into ne’er ending chaos a… Our mansions must fall, and earth… But thy courage O Erin! may never… See! the wide wasting ruin extends…
Hymn of Pan

From the forests and highlands We come, we come; From the river—girt islands, Where loud waves are dumb Listening my sweet pipings.
Fragment: Great Spirit

Great Spirit whom the sea of boun… Nurtures within its unimagined cav… In which thou sittest sole, as in… Giving a voice to its mysterious w…
Epipsychidion: Passages of the Poem, Or Connected Therewith

Here, my dear friend, is a new boo… I have already dedicated two To other friends, one female and o… What you are, is a thing that I m… What can this be to those who prai…
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.
The Spectral Horseman

What was the shriek that struck F… As it sate on the ruins of time th… Hark! it floats on the fitful blas… And breathes to the pale moon a fu… It is the Benshie’s moan on the s…
 1
On an Icicle That Clung to the Grass of a Grave

Oh! take the pure gem to where sou… Waft repose to some bosom as faith… In which the warm current of love… As it rises unmingled with selfish… Which, untainted by pride, unpollu…



Haut