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A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Percy Bysshe Shelley
Age: 29 †
Born: 1792
Born: August 4
Died: 1822
Died: July 8
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Percy Byssche Shelley
Percy Shelley
Shelli Persi Bish
Cheer
Sounds
Solitude
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Creativity
Nightingale
Darkness
Nightingales
Sweet
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More quotes by Percy Bysshe Shelley
That orbed maiden, with white fire laden, Whom mortals call the moon.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
The splendors of the firmament of time May be eclipsed, but are extinguished not Like stars to their appointed height they climb And death is a low mist which cannot blot The brightness it may veil.
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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 wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Underneath Day's azure eyes, Ocean's nursling, Venice lies, A peopled labyrinth of walls, Amphitrite's destined halls
Percy Bysshe Shelley
O! I burn with impatience for the moment of the dissolution of intolerance it has injured me.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
How beautiful is sunset when the glow Of Heaven descends upon a land like thee, Thou Paradise of exiles, Italy!
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Fate,Time,Occasion,Chance, and Change? To these All things are subject but eternal love.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
O, wind, if winter comes, can spring be far behind?
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Kiss me, so long but as a kiss may last!
Percy Bysshe Shelley
To hope till hope creates From its own wreck the thing it contemplates.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Worlds on worlds are rolling ever From creation to decay, Like the bubbles on a river Sparkling, bursting, borne away.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
The quick Dreams, The passion-winged Ministers of thought.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
The jealous keys of truth's eternal doors.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
January gray is here, like a sexton by her grave February bears the bier, march with grief doth howl and rave, and April weeps -- but, O ye hours! Follow with May's fairest flowers.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
(Title: 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?
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Spirit, Patience, Gentleness, All that can adorn and bless Art thou let deeds, not words, express Thine exceeding loveliness.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds his auditors are as men entranced by the melody of an unseen musician, who feel that they are moved and softened, yet know not whence or why.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Men of England, wherefore plough For the lords who lay you low?
Percy Bysshe Shelley
I am not much of a hand at love songs, you see I mingle metaphysics with even this, but perhaps in this age of Philosophy that may be excused.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
For love and beauty and delight, there is no death nor change.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
