Percy Bysshe Shelley

(1792-1822 / Horsham / England)

Percy Bysshe Shelley Poems

281. Alas! This Is Not What I Thought Life Was 5/7/2011
282. Despair 4/1/2010
283. A Roman's Chamber 4/1/2010
284. Night 1/4/2003
285. Time 1/3/2003
286. The Moon 1/4/2003
287. Hymn To Intellectual Beauty 1/3/2003
288. On Death 1/3/2003
289. Prometheus Unbound: Act I (Excerpt) 1/1/2004
290. One Word Is Too Often Profaned 1/13/2003
291. Fragment: "To The Moon" 1/20/2003
292. Asia: From Prometheus Unbound 1/13/2003
293. Eyes : A Fragment 4/1/2010
294. Time Long Past 1/3/2003
295. Archy's Song From Charles The First (A Widow Bird Sate Mourning For Her Love) 1/1/2004
296. To The Moon 1/3/2003
297. To Night 12/31/2002
298. And Like A Dying Lady, Lean And Pale 1/1/2004
299. A Serpent-Face 4/1/2010
300. A Fragment: To Music 4/1/2010
301. A Summer Evening Churchyard, Lechlade, Gloucestershire 12/31/2002
302. A Dirge 4/1/2010
303. England In 1819 1/3/2003
304. An Exhortation 1/3/2003
305. Autumn: A Dirge 12/31/2002
306. Alastor: Or, The Spirit Of Solitude 1/3/2003
307. When The Lamp Is Shattered 12/31/2002
308. Bereavement 12/31/2002
309. To A Skylark 12/31/2002
310. A Bridal Song 4/1/2010
311. The Indian Serenade 12/31/2002
312. Music, When Soft Voices Die 1/3/2003
313. Art Thou Pale For Weariness 1/3/2003
314. The Cloud 12/31/2002
315. A Dialogue 4/1/2010
316. I Arise From Dreams Of Thee 1/3/2003
317. To The Men Of England 1/13/2003
318. Adonais 1/13/2003
319. Mutability 12/31/2002
320. Ode To The West Wind 1/3/2003

Comments about Percy Bysshe Shelley

  • Mohammad Muzzammil Mohammad Muzzammil (12/8/2011 5:41:00 AM)

    My most favourite poet

    45 person liked.
    48 person did not like.
  • p.a. noushad p.a. noushad (1/6/2009 6:24:00 AM)

    Shelley's ode to the west wind is a lyric in which the poet expresses intense emotion, this poem is also a musical thought.In the poem Shelley wishes to be the lyre of the west wind, we hear the majestic harmoney of the music of the wind as it blows through the cycle of seasons causing destruction and regeneration over and over again, I love the poem, it is one of the beautiful poem I ever read in my life.It touches my soul.

  • p.a. noushad p.a. noushad (1/6/2009 6:24:00 AM)

    Shelley's ode to the west wind is a lyric in which the poet expresses intense emotion, this poem is also a musical thought.In the poem Shelley wishes to be the lyre of the west wind, we hear the majestic harmoney of the music of the wind as it blows through the cycle of seasons causing destruction and regeneration over and over again, I love the poem, it is one of the beautiful poem I ever read in my life.It touches my soul.

  • p.a. noushad p.a. noushad (10/31/2008 8:14:00 AM)

    your poems are endowed with great romantic beauty

  • Nagamuthu Osho (9/4/2005 12:01:00 AM)

    Hail! Poet! Of Eternal Diadem!

    The words of Thee,
    Springs joy and glee;
    Will carry, and starry charm,
    Will fill my heart's chamber with ambrosial songs to warm.

    Dedicating to the Divine Soul.... P.B.Shelley.......
    N.Karthikeyan Osho

    The rare and real soul will fill and dwells, niche in the Heart, to usher and awake the Glimpse of Glory.
    Grace Adieu...
    Lord Bless you.
    Yours sincerely,
    N.Karthikeyan Osho

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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