Poems of Shelley: An Anthology in Commemoration of the Poet's Death the 8th July 1822

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R. Cobden-Sanderson, 1922 - 252 pages
 

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Page 133 - I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, From the seas and the streams; I bear light shade for the leaves when laid In their noonday dreams. From my wings are shaken the dews that waken The sweet buds every one, When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, As she dances about the sun. I wield the flail of the lashing hail, And whiten the green plains under, And then again I dissolve it in rain, And laugh as I pass in thunder.
Page 162 - What thou art we know not : What is most like thee ? From rainbow clouds there flow not Drops so bright to see As from thy presence showers a rain of melody.
Page 161 - Keen as are the arrows Of that silver sphere, Whose intense lamp narrows In the white dawn clear Until we hardly see — we feel that it is there...
Page 122 - The breath whose might I have invoked in song Descends on me; my spirit's bark is driven, Far from the shore, far from the trembling throng Whose sails were never to the tempest given; The massy earth and sphered skies are riven! I am borne darkly, fearfully, afar; Whilst burning through the inmost veil of Heaven, The soul of Adonais, like a star, Beacons from the abode where the Eternal are.
Page 104 - O, weep for Adonais ! though our tears Thaw not the frost which binds so dear a head ! And thou, sad Hour, selected from all years To mourn our loss, rouse thy obscure compeers, And teach them thine own sorrow, say : ' With me Died Adonais ; till the Future dares Forget the Past, his fate and fame shall be An echo and a light unto eternity...
Page 118 - His part, while the One Spirit's plastic stress Sweeps through the dull dense world : compelling there All new successions to the forms they wear; Torturing the unwilling dross that checks its flight To its own likeness, as each mass may bear; And bursting in its beauty and its might From trees and beasts and men into the heaven's light.
Page 11 - The loathsome mask has fallen, the man remains Sceptreless, free, uncircumscribed, but man Equal, unclassed, tribeless, and nationless, Exempt from awe, worship, degree, the king Over himself; just, gentle, wise; but man Passionless — no, yet free from guilt or pain, Which were, for his will made or suffered them; Nor yet exempt, though ruling them like slaves, From chance, and death, and mutability, The clogs of that which else might oversoar The loftiest star of unascended heaven, Pinnacled dim...
Page 116 - Live thou, whose infamy is not thy fame ! Live ! fear no heavier chastisement from me, Thou noteless blot on a remembered name ! But be thyself, and know thyself to be...
Page 164 - What objects are the fountains Of thy happy strain? What fields, or waves, or mountains? What shapes of sky or plain? What love of thine own kind? what ignorance of pain? With thy clear keen joyance Languor cannot be: Shadow of annoyance Never came near thee: Thou lovest, but ne'er knew love's sad satiety.
Page 22 - It visits with inconstant glance Each human heart and countenance ; Like hues and harmonies of evening. Like clouds in starlight widely spread, Like memory of music fled, Like aught that for its grace may be Dear, and yet dearer for its mystery.

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