Percy Bysshe Shelley

I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers,
From the seas and the streams;
I bear light read more

I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers,
From the seas and the streams;
I bear light shade for the leaves when laid
In their noonday dreams.
From my wings are shaken the dews that waken
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.

Peace, peace! he is not dead, he doth not sleep! He hath awaken from the dream of life!

Peace, peace! he is not dead, he doth not sleep! He hath awaken from the dream of life!

O, white innocence,
That thou shouldst wear the mask of guilt to hide
Thine awful and serenest read more

O, white innocence,
That thou shouldst wear the mask of guilt to hide
Thine awful and serenest countenance
From those who know thee not!

For there are deeds
Which have no form, sufferings which have no tongue.

For there are deeds
Which have no form, sufferings which have no tongue.

History is a cyclic poem written by time upon the memories of man.

History is a cyclic poem written by time upon the memories of man.