Percy Bysshe Shelley

(1792-1822 / Horsham / England)

Percy Bysshe Shelley Poems

1. from Laon and Cythna; or The Revolution of the Golden City 2/5/2016
2. The Retrospect: Cwm Elan, 1812 4/1/2010
3. Dark Spirit of the Desart Rude 6/26/2015
4. The Zucca 4/1/2010
5. To Sophia (Miss Stacey) 4/1/2010
6. To The Lord Chancellor 4/1/2010
7. The Rude Wind Is Singing 4/1/2010
8. The Sepulchre Of Memory 4/1/2010
9. To Edward Williams 4/1/2010
10. The Viewless And Invisible Consequence 4/1/2010
11. To Mary Who Died In This Opinion 4/1/2010
12. To Constantia 4/1/2010
13. To Emilia Viviani 4/1/2010
14. To Mary 4/1/2010
15. The Wandering Jew's Soliloquy 4/1/2010
16. The Spectral Horseman 4/1/2010
17. To Harriet -- It Is Not Blasphemy To Hope That Heaven 4/1/2010
18. The Tower Of Famine 4/1/2010
19. The Pine Forest Of The Cascine Near Pisa 4/1/2010
20. To Ireland 4/1/2010
21. The Woodman And The Nightingale 4/1/2010
22. To Harriet 4/1/2010
23. To Mary Shelley 4/1/2010
24. To Italy 4/1/2010
25. To-- I Fear Thy Kisses, Gentle Maiden 4/1/2010
26. To Mary ---- 4/1/2010
27. To Constantia, Singing 4/1/2010
28. The World's Wanderers 4/1/2010
29. To-- One Word Is Too Often Profaned 4/1/2010
30. To Death 4/1/2010
31. To-- Oh! There Are Spirits Of The Air 4/1/2010
32. The Past 4/1/2010
33. To Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin 4/1/2010
34. To Ianthe 4/1/2010
35. The Sunset 4/1/2010
36. The Solitary 4/1/2010
37. Unrisen Splendour Of The Brightest Sun 4/1/2010
38. To Jane: The Keen Stars Were Twinkling 4/1/2010
39. To Jane: The Recollection 4/1/2010
40. To A Star 4/1/2010

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  • Chacha (2/6/2018 3:48:00 PM)

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  • Robert Graden (11/28/2017 5:10:00 AM)

    I have schizophrenia and have difficulty expressing feeling. Whatever emotional problems Shelley might've had, this little poem speaks and sings for me! I wish I had written it. But as it is, here it stands, waiting for the reader to come to it and read it aloud to musical accompaniment. I do not condemn Shelley or his life, and neither should anybody else. Thank you.

  • Michael Morgan (8/10/2016 10:30:00 PM)

    Mark Twain was right. Shelley had the bad habit of deserting his consorts and leaving them pregnant or burdened with his children. He also had the bad habit of borrowing money he never intended to pay back. He was probably a bit of a laudanum addict, accounting for his hallucinations. He was thoroughly capable of lying, dissembling and pitching a fit. Reality sometimes seems to have escaped him. He sounds to have had a personality disorder. His father disowned him. Had he survived, he could probably have been charged with manslaughter in the drowning death of his friend Williams. His death probably prevented a divorce from his wife, in that relatively divorceless age.His under-the-table immorality made his friend, the noisier Byron seem like a model of integrity. Alas, he was not at all a better poet than the Byron of Don Juan, but he is a supreme and curiously unsentimental lyricist. Sorry- Promethius Unbound is boring, by stretches.

  • Sayeed Abubakar Sayeed Abubakar (12/21/2015 9:28:00 PM)

    A great revolutionary poet and a poet of love and passion.

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

The Triumph Of Life

Swift as a spirit hastening to his task
Of glory & of good, the Sun sprang forth
Rejoicing in his splendour, & the mask
Of darkness fell from the awakened Earth.
The smokeless altars of the mountain snows
Flamed above crimson clouds, & at the birth
Of light, the Ocean's orison arose
To which the birds tempered their matin lay,
All flowers in field or forest which unclose

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