The Complete Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley: The Text Carefully Revised by William Michael Rossetti, Volumen3John Slark, 1885 |
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Página 12
... hours Each from his voiceless grave . They have in visioned bowers Of studious zeal or love's delight Outwatched with me the envious night : They know that never joy illumed my brow , Unlinked with hope that thou wouldst free This world ...
... hours Each from his voiceless grave . They have in visioned bowers Of studious zeal or love's delight Outwatched with me the envious night : They know that never joy illumed my brow , Unlinked with hope that thou wouldst free This world ...
Página 29
... hour will in thy memory Be a dream of days forgotten long ; We soon shall dwell by the azure sea Of serene and golden Italy , Or Greece the mother of the free . And I will teach thine infant tongue To call upon those heroes old In their ...
... hour will in thy memory Be a dream of days forgotten long ; We soon shall dwell by the azure sea Of serene and golden Italy , Or Greece the mother of the free . And I will teach thine infant tongue To call upon those heroes old In their ...
Página 31
... hours . In addition to such poems as have an intelligible aim and shape , many a stray idea and transitory emotion found imperfect and abrupt expression , and then again lost themselves in silence . As he never wandered without a book ...
... hours . In addition to such poems as have an intelligible aim and shape , many a stray idea and transitory emotion found imperfect and abrupt expression , and then again lost themselves in silence . As he never wandered without a book ...
Página 33
... and uncomplaining lot Is such as mine should be . 3 THE PAST . WILT thou forget the happy hours Which POEMS WRITTEN IN 1818 . 33 Passage of the Apennines On a Dead Violet The fight was o'er: the flashing through the gloom.
... and uncomplaining lot Is such as mine should be . 3 THE PAST . WILT thou forget the happy hours Which POEMS WRITTEN IN 1818 . 33 Passage of the Apennines On a Dead Violet The fight was o'er: the flashing through the gloom.
Página 34
... hours Which we buried in Love's sweet bowers , Heaping over their corpses cold Blossoms and leaves instead of mould ? Blossoms which were the joys that fell , And leaves , the hopes that yet remain . Forget the dead , the past ? Oh yet ...
... hours Which we buried in Love's sweet bowers , Heaping over their corpses cold Blossoms and leaves instead of mould ? Blossoms which were the joys that fell , And leaves , the hopes that yet remain . Forget the dead , the past ? Oh yet ...
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The Complete Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley: The Text ..., Volumen3 Percy Bysshe Shelley,William Michael Rossetti Sin vista previa disponible - 1878 |
Términos y frases comunes
ANTISTROPHE Apennine Archy art thou beams beauty beneath blast blood bosom breast breath bright calm cave cavern chidden child Chorus clouds cold Cyclops Cyprian Dæmon dark dead dear death deep delight Demon divine dost dream earth EPODE eternal eyes faint fair Faust fear fierce fire fleeting river flowers gentle glory golden grave green grief hear heart heaven hope hour King Lady leaves Leigh Hunt Lerici light living Lord melody Mephistopheles mighty moon mortal mountains Naples never night o'er ocean pale Pisa poem rain rocks round SEMICHORUS Serchio shadow Shelley Shelley's shore silent Silenus sleep smile soft song Sophia Stacey sorrow soul spirit stars storm Strafford stream sweet swift tears tempest thee thine things thou art thought throne Tmolus tower Ulysses Via Reggio voice wake wandering waves weep Whilst wild wind wings
Pasajes populares
Página 122 - The breath whose might I have invoked in song Descends on me; my spirit's bark is driven, Far from the shore, far from the trembling throng Whose sails were never to the tempest given; The massy earth and sphered skies are riven! I am borne darkly, fearfully, afar; Whilst burning through the inmost veil of Heaven, The soul of Adonais, like a star, Beacons from the abode where the Eternal are.
Página 50 - Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is; What if my leaves are falling like its own! The tumult of thy mighty harmonies Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone, Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce, My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one! Drive my dead thoughts over the universe Like withered leaves to quicken a new birth!
Página 70 - I am the daughter of Earth and Water, And the nursling of the Sky : I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores ; I change, but I cannot die. For after the rain, when with never a stain The pavilion of heaven is bare...
Página 90 - Thy sweet child Sleep, the filmy-eyed, Murmured like a noontide bee, Shall I nestle near thy side ? Wouldst thou me ? — And I replied. No, not thee ! Death will come when thou art dead. Soon, too soon — Sleep will come when thou art fled ; Of neither would I ask the boon I ask of thee, beloved Night — Swift be thine approaching flight. Come soon, soon ! TIME [Publ.
Página 49 - Thou who didst waken from his summer dreams The blue Mediterranean, where he lay, Lulled by the coil of his crystalline streams, Beside a pumice isle in Baiae's bay, And saw in sleep old palaces and towers Quivering within the wave's intenser day, All overgrown with azure moss and flowers So sweet, the sense faints picturing them!
Página 70 - May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof, The stars peep behind her and peer; And I laugh to see them whirl and flee, Like a swarm of golden bees, When I widen the rent in my wind-built tent, Till the calm rivers, lakes and seas, Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high, Are each paved with the moon and these.
Página 69 - Which an earthquake rocks and swings, An eagle alit one moment may sit In the light of its golden wings.
Página 68 - 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.
Página 89 - I sighed for thee ; When light rode high, and the dew was gone, And noon lay heavy on flower and tree, And the weary Day turned to his rest Lingering like an unloved guest, I sighed for thee. Thy brother Death came, and cried Wouldst thou me...
Página 74 - Yet if we could scorn Hate, and pride, and fear: If we were things born Not to shed a tear, I know not how thy joy we ever should come near. Better than all measures Of delightful sound, Better than all treasures That in books are found, Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground! Teach me half the gladness That thy brain must know, • Such harmonious madness From my lips would flow, The world should listen then, as I am listening now.