Percy Bysshe Shelley Poems

WHEN the lamp is shatter'd,
The light in the dust lies dead;
   When the cloud is scatter'd,
The rainbow's glory is shed;
...

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:
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Rarely, rarely, comest thou,
Spirit of Delight!
Wherefore hast thou left me now
Many a day and night?
...

The cold earth slept below;
Above the cold sky shone;
And all around,
With a chilling sound,
...

I.
They die--the dead return not--Misery
Sits near an open grave and calls them over,
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Many a green isle needs must be
In the deep wide sea of Misery,
Or the mariner, worn and wan,
Never thus could voyage on -
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...
And many there were hurt by that strong boy,
His name, they said, was Pleasure,
And near him stood, glorious beyond measure
...

I.
The odour from the flower is gone
Which like thy kisses breathed on me;
The colour from the flower is flown
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I rode one evening with Count Maddalo
Upon the bank of land which breaks the flow
Of Adria towards Venice: a bare strand
Of hillocks, heap'd from ever-shifting sand,
...

Inter marmoreas Leonorae pendula colles
Fortunata mmis Machina dicit horas.
Quas manibus premit ilia duas insensa papillas
...