Percy Bysshe Shelley

(1792-1822 / Horsham / England)

Percy Bysshe Shelley Poems

161. Ode To The West Wind 1/3/2003
162. On A Faded Violet 4/1/2010
163. On A Fete At Carlton House: Fragment 4/1/2010
164. On An Icicle That Clung To The Grass Of A Grave 4/1/2010
165. On Death 1/3/2003
166. On Fanny Godwin 4/1/2010
167. On Keats, Who Desired That On His Tomb Should Be Inscribed-- 4/1/2010
168. On Leaving London For Wales 4/1/2010
169. On Robert Emmet's Grave 4/1/2010
170. On The Dark Height Of Jura 4/1/2010
171. On The Medusa Of Leonardo Da Vinci In The Florentine Gallery 4/1/2010
172. One Sung Of Thee Who Left The Tale Untold 1/1/2004
173. One Word Is Too Often Profaned 1/13/2003
174. Orpheus 4/1/2010
175. Otho 4/1/2010
176. Ozymandias 12/31/2002
177. Passage Of The Apennines 4/1/2010
178. Pater Omnipotens 4/1/2010
179. Peter Bell The Third 4/1/2010
180. Poetical Essay 4/1/2010
181. Prince Athanase 4/1/2010
182. Prometheus Unbound: Act I (Excerpt) 1/1/2004
183. Queen Mab: Part I. 4/1/2010
184. Queen Mab: Part Ii. 4/1/2010
185. Queen Mab: Part Iii. 4/1/2010
186. Queen Mab: Part Iv. 4/1/2010
187. Queen Mab: Part Ix. 4/1/2010
188. Queen Mab: Part V. 4/1/2010
189. Queen Mab: Part Vi (Excerpts) 1/1/2004
190. Queen Mab: Part Vii. 4/1/2010
191. Remembrance 4/1/2010
192. Remorse 1/4/2003
193. Revenge 4/1/2010
194. Rome And Nature 4/1/2010
195. Rosalind And Helen: A Modern Eclogue 1/3/2003
196. Saint Edmond's Eve 4/1/2010
197. Similes For Two Political Characters Of 1819 4/1/2010
198. Sister Rosa: A Ballad 4/1/2010
199. Song 12/31/2002
200. Song For 'Tasso' 4/1/2010
Best Poem of Percy Bysshe Shelley


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


How stern are the woes of the desolate mourner
As he bends in still grief o'er the hallowed bier,
As enanguished he turns from the laugh of the scorner,
And drops to perfection's remembrance a tear;
When floods of despair down his pale cheeks are streaming,
When no blissful hope on his bosom is beaming,
Or, if lulled for a while, soon he starts from his dreaming,
And finds torn the soft ties to affection so dear.
Ah, when shall day dawn on the night of the grave,

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