Poem Lake | The Greatest Poems of All Time

To Harriet Whose is the love that, gleaming through the world, Wards off the poisonous arrow of its scorn? Whose is the warm and partial praise, Virtue's most sweet reward? Beneath whose looks did my reviving soul Riper in truth and virtuous daring grow? Whose eyes have I... Poet: Percy Bysshe Shelley	To ———— Music, when soft voices die, Vibrates in the memory.— Odours, when sweet violets sicken, Live within the sense they quicken.— Rose leaves, when the rose is dead, Are heap'd for the beloved's bed— And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone, Love itself shall... Poet: Percy Bysshe Shelley	Love's Philosophy The fountains mingle with the river And the rivers with the ocean, The winds of heaven mix for ever With a sweet emotion; Nothing in the world is single, All things by a law divine In one another's being mingle— Why not I with thine? See the mountains... Poet: Percy Bysshe Shelley	When the Lamp is Shattered When the lamp is shattered The light in the dust lies dead - When the cloud is scattered, The rainbow's glory is shed. When the lute is broken, Sweet tones are remembered not; When the lips have spoken, Loved accents are soon forgot. As music and... Poet: Percy Bysshe Shelley
Music, When Soft Voices Die Music, when soft voices die, Vibrates in the memory— Odours, when sweet violets sicken, Live within the sense they quicken. Rose leaves, when the rose is dead, Are heap’d for the beloved’s bed; And so thy thoughts when thou are gone, Love itself shall... Poet: Percy Bysshe Shelley	The Indian Serenade I arise from dreams of thee In the first sweet sleep of night, When the winds are breathing low, And the stars are shining bright. I arise from dreams of thee, And a spirit in my feet Hath led me—who knows how? To thy chamber window, Sweet! The... Poet: Percy Bysshe Shelley	An meinen Sohn [150] An meinen Sohn[1]. Die Wogen schäumen und tosen am Strand, Schwach ist und klein der Kahn, Schwarz grollt das Meer, und am Himmelsrand Schon dunkelt des Sturmes Nahn. 5 O komm mit mir, geliebter Sohn, ... Poet: Percy Bysshe Shelley	England im Jahr 1819 [149] England im Jahr 1819. Ein König, alt, toll, blind, dem Tod verfallen; – Prinzen, die Hefen ihres trägen Stamms, ' Verhöhnt als kothiger Abhub kothigen Schlamms; – Negierer, fühllos, taub den Klagen allen, 5 Blutegeln gleich... Poet: Percy Bysshe Shelley
Gedanken eines Republikaners beim Sturz Bonaparte’s [137] Gedanken eines Republikaners beim Sturz Bonaparte’s. Ich haßte dich, Thyrann! Ich sah mit Graun, Wie du, ein ehrgeizloser Sklav, den Stab Des Siegers schwangest ob der Freiheit Grab. Du konntest deinen Herrscherthron erbaun, [138] 5... Poet: Percy Bysshe Shelley	Osymandias [143] Osymandias. Ein Wandrer kam aus einem alten Land, Und sprach: Ein riesig Trümmerbild von Stein Steht in der Wüste, rumpflos Bein an Bein, Das Haupt daneben, halb verdeckt vom Sand. Der Züge Trotz belehrt uns: wohl verstand... Poet: Percy Bysshe Shelley