Percy Bysshe Shelley

(1792-1822 / Horsham / England)

Percy Bysshe Shelley Poems

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