Percy Bysshe Shelley ( 10 of 45 )
No change, no pause, no hope! Yet I endure.
No change, no pause, no hope! Yet I endure.
Sing again, with your dear voice revealing
A tone
Of some world far from ours,
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Sing again, with your dear voice revealing
A tone
Of some world far from ours,
Where music and moonlight and feeling
Are one.
January grey is here,
Like a sexton by her grave;
February bears the bier,
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January grey is here,
Like a sexton by her grave;
February bears the bier,
March with grief doth howl and rave,
And April weeps--but, O ye hours!
Follow with May's fairest flowers.
A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds
A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds
There is a snake in thy smile, my dear,
And bitter poison within thy tear.
There is a snake in thy smile, my dear,
And bitter poison within thy tear.
How many a rustic Milton has passed by,
Stifling the speechless longings of his heart,
In unremitting read more
How many a rustic Milton has passed by,
Stifling the speechless longings of his heart,
In unremitting drudgery and care!
How many a vulgar Cato has compelled
His energies, no longer tameless then,
To mould a pin, or fabricate a nail!
Lost Echo sits amid the voiceless mountains,
And feeds her grief.
Lost Echo sits amid the voiceless mountains,
And feeds her grief.
Those who inflict must suffer, for they see
The work of their own hearts, and that must be
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Those who inflict must suffer, for they see
The work of their own hearts, and that must be
Our chastisement or recompense.
It is better to keep your mouth shut and appear stupid than to
open it and remove all doubt.
It is better to keep your mouth shut and appear stupid than to
open it and remove all doubt.
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.
