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Men of England, wherefore plough For the lords who lay you low?

Percy Bysshe Shelley

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Percy Bysshe Shelley
Age: 29 †
Born: 1792
Born: August 4
Died: 1822
Died: July 8
Linguist
Novelist
Playwright
Poet
Translator
Percy Byssche Shelley
Percy Shelley
Shelli Persi Bish
England
Lord
Men
Plough
Wherefore
Lords
Lays
Lows

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The advocates of literal interpretation have been the most efficacious enemies of those doctrines whose nature they profess to venerate.
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Then black despair, The shadow of a starless night, was thrown Over the world in which I moved alone.
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So is Hope Changed for Despair-one laid upon the shelf, We take the other. Under heaven's high cope Fortune is god-all you endure and do Depends on circumstance as much as you.
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Are we not formed, as notes of music are, For one another, though dissimilar?
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Thou demandest what is love? It is that powerful attraction towards all that we conceive, or fear, or hope beyond ourselves, when we find within our own thoughts the chasm of an insufficient void, and seek to awaken in all things that are, a community with what we experience within ourselves.
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Spirit, Patience, Gentleness, All that can adorn and bless Art thou let deeds, not words, express Thine exceeding loveliness.
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Sow seed--but let no tyrant reap Find wealth--let no imposter heap Weave robes--let not the idle wear Forge arms--in your defence to bear.
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No more let life divide what death can join together.
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Kiss me, so long but as a kiss may last!
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O world! O life! O time! On whose last steps I climb
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In a drama of the highest order there is little food for censure or hatred it teaches rather self-knowledge and self-respect.
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A God made by man undoubtedly has need of man to make himself known to man.
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I am gone into the fields To take what this sweet hour yields Reflection, you may come to-morrow, Sit by the fireside with Sorrow. You with the unpaid bill, Despair, You, tiresome verse-reciter, Care, I will pay you in the grave, Death will listen to your stave.
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And many more Destructions played In this ghastly masquerade, All disguised, even to the eyes, Like Bishops, lawyers, peers, or spies.
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All love is sweet, given or received.
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The Pilgrim of Eternity, whose fame Over his living head like heaven is bent, An early but enduring monument, Came, veiling all the lightnings of his song In sorrow.
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Revenge is the naked idol of the worship of a semi-barbarous age.
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... Virtue owns a more eternal foe Than Force or Fraud: old Custom, legal Crime, And bloody Faith the foulest birth of Time.
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Jealousy's eyes are green.
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Sounds of vernal showers On the twinkling grass, Rain awaken'd flowers, All that ever was Joyous, and clear, and fresh, thy music doth surpass
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