Percy Bysshe Shelley

(1792-1822 / Horsham / England)

Percy Bysshe Shelley Poems

241. The First Canzone Of The Convito 4/1/2010
242. The Fitful Alternations Of The Rain 1/3/2003
243. The Fugitives 4/1/2010
244. The Indian Serenade 12/31/2002
245. The Invitation 1/4/2003
246. The Irishman's Song 4/1/2010
247. The Isle 4/1/2010
248. The Magnetic Lady To Her Patient 4/1/2010
249. The Mask Of Anarchy 4/1/2010
250. The Moon 1/4/2003
251. The Past 4/1/2010
252. The Pine Forest Of The Cascine Near Pisa 4/1/2010
253. The Question 1/3/2003
254. The Retrospect: Cwm Elan, 1812 4/1/2010
255. The Rude Wind Is Singing 4/1/2010
256. The Sensitive Plant 4/1/2010
257. The Sepulchre Of Memory 4/1/2010
258. The Solitary 4/1/2010
259. The Spectral Horseman 4/1/2010
260. The Sunset 4/1/2010
261. The Tower Of Famine 4/1/2010
262. The Triumph Of Life 1/1/2004
263. The Two Spirits: An Allegory 1/1/2004
264. The Viewless And Invisible Consequence 4/1/2010
265. The Wandering Jew's Soliloquy 4/1/2010
266. The Waning Moon 1/3/2003
267. The Witch Of Atlas 12/31/2002
268. The Woodman And The Nightingale 4/1/2010
269. The World's Wanderers 4/1/2010
270. The Zucca 4/1/2010
271. Time 1/3/2003
272. Time Long Past 1/3/2003
273. To ---- 1/4/2003
274. To A Skylark 12/31/2002
275. To A Star 4/1/2010
276. To Coleridge 12/31/2002
277. To Constantia 4/1/2010
278. To Constantia, Singing 4/1/2010
279. To Death 4/1/2010
280. To Edward Williams 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 Coleridge

Oh! there are spirits of the air,
And genii of the evening breeze,
And gentle ghosts, with eyes as fair
As star-beams among twilight trees:
Such lovely ministers to meet
Oft hast thou turned from men thy lonely feet.

With mountain winds, and babbling springs,
And moonlight seas, that are the voice

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