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The pale stars are gone! For the sun, their swift shepherd, To their folds them compelling, In the depths of the dawn, Hastes, in meteor-eclipsing array, and the flee Beyond his blue dwelling, As fawns flee the leopard.
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
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Percy Byssche Shelley
Percy Shelley
Shelli Persi Bish
Sun
Folds
Leopard
Blue
Haste
Meteors
Beyond
Dwelling
Leopards
Stars
Depths
Array
Gone
Compelling
Shepherd
Pale
Flee
Dawn
Shepherds
Fawns
Depth
Swift
Meteor
More quotes by Percy Bysshe Shelley
But Greece and her foundations are Built below the tide of war, Based on the crystalline sea Of thought and its eternity Her citizens, imperial spirits, Rule the present from the past, On all this world of men inherits Their seal is set.
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Know ye what it is to be a child? It is to have a spirit yet streaming from the waters of baptism it is to believe in love, to believe in loveliness, to believe in belief.
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The good want power, but to weep barren tears. The powerful goodness want: worse need for them. The wise want love and those who love want wisdom.
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I have drunken deep of joy, And I will taste no other wine tonight.
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Ah, woe is me! Winter is come and gone. But grief returns with the revolving year.
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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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Whence are we, and why are we? Of what scene The actors or spectators?
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Poets are the unacknowledged legislators of the world.
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Poetry lifts the veil from the hidden beauty of the world, and makes familiar objects be as if they were not familiar.
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Through the sunset of hope, Like the shapes of a dream, What paradise islands of glory gleam!
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I have drunken deep of joy.
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Thus suicidal selfishness, that blights The fairest feelings of the opening heart, Is destined to decay, whilst from the soil Shall spring all virtue, all delight, all love, And judgment cease to wage unnatural war With passion's unsubduable array.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
I consider poetry very subordinate to moral and political science.
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Worlds on worlds are rolling ever From creation to decay, Like the bubbles on a river Sparkling, bursting, borne away.
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For the Sensitive Plant has no bright flower Radiance and odour are not its dower It loves, even like Love, its deep heart is full, It desires what it has not, the beautiful.
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.
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Their errors have been weighed and found to have been dust in the balance if their sins were as scarlet, they are now white as snow: they have been washed in the blood of the mediator and the redeemer, Time.
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February... Bending from Heaven, in azure mirth, It kissed the forehead of the Earth, And smiled upon the silent sea, And bade the frozen streams be free, And waked to music all their fountains, And breathed upon the frozen mountains.
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I love Love -- though he has wings, And like light can flee.
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Think ye by gazing on each other's eyes To multiply your lovely selves?
Percy Bysshe Shelley