Percy Bysshe Shelley

(1792-1822 / Horsham / England)

Percy Bysshe Shelley Poems

201. Song Of Proserpine While Gathering Flowers On The Plain Of Enna 12/31/2002
202. Song To The Men Of England 4/1/2010
203. Song. Cold, Cold Is The Blast When December Is Howling 4/1/2010
204. Song. Come Harriet! Sweet Is The Hour 4/1/2010
205. Song. -- Fierce Roars The Midnight Storm 4/1/2010
206. Song. To -- [harriet] 4/1/2010
207. Song. Despair 4/1/2010
208. Song. Hope 4/1/2010
209. Song. Sorrow 4/1/2010
210. Song. To [harriet] 4/1/2010
211. Song. Translated From The German 4/1/2010
212. Song. Translated From The Italian 4/1/2010
213. Song: Rarely, Rarely, Comest Thou 1/1/2004
214. Sonnet -- Ye Hasten To The Grave! 4/1/2010
215. Sonnet : From The Italian Of Cavalcanti 4/1/2010
216. Sonnet : From The Italian Of Dante 4/1/2010
217. Sonnet : On Launching Some Bottles Filled With Knowledge Into The Bristol Channel 4/1/2010
218. Sonnet : To A Balloon Laden With Knowledge 4/1/2010
219. Sonnet To Byron 4/1/2010
220. Sonnet: England In 1819 4/1/2010
221. Sonnet: Lift Not The Painted Veil Which Those Who Live 4/1/2010
222. Sonnet: Political Greatness 4/1/2010
223. St. Irvyne's Tower 4/1/2010
224. Stanza 4/1/2010
225. Stanza From A Translation Of The Marseillaise Hymn 4/1/2010
226. Stanza, Written At Bracknell 4/1/2010
227. Stanzas Written In Dejection, Near Naples 4/1/2010
228. Stanzas. -- April, 1814 4/1/2010
229. Summer And Winter 4/1/2010
230. The Aziola 4/1/2010
231. The Birth Place Of Pleasure 4/1/2010
232. The Boat On The Serchio 4/1/2010
233. The Cenci : A Tragedy In Five Acts 4/1/2010
234. The Cloud 12/31/2002
235. The Cyclops 5/8/2011
236. The Death Knell Is Ringing 4/1/2010
237. The Deserts Of Dim Sleep 4/1/2010
238. The Devil's Walk. A Ballad 4/1/2010
239. The Drowned Lover 4/1/2010
240. The False Laurel And The True 4/1/2010
Best Poem of Percy Bysshe Shelley

Ozymandias

I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: `Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear --
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal ...

Read the full of Ozymandias

To The Moon

Art thou pale for weariness
Of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth,
Wandering companionless
Among the stars that have a different birth, -
And ever changing, like a joyless eye
That finds no object worth its constancy?

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