Percy Bysshe Shelley ( 10 of 45 )
Those who inflict must suffer, for they see
The work of their own hearts, and that must be
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Those who inflict must suffer, for they see
The work of their own hearts, and that must be
Our chastisement or recompense.
Peter was dull; he was at first
Dull;--Oh, so dull--so very dull!
Whether he talked, wrote, or read more
Peter was dull; he was at first
Dull;--Oh, so dull--so very dull!
Whether he talked, wrote, or rehearsed--
Still with his dulness was he cursed--
Dull--beyond all conception--dull.
A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds
A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds
January grey is here,
Like a sexton by her grave;
February bears the bier,
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January grey 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.
Sing again, with your dear voice revealing
A tone
Of some world far from ours,
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Sing again, with your dear voice revealing
A tone
Of some world far from ours,
Where music and moonlight and feeling
Are one.
How many a rustic Milton has passed by,
Stifling the speechless longings of his heart,
In unremitting read more
How many a rustic Milton has passed by,
Stifling the speechless longings of his heart,
In unremitting drudgery and care!
How many a vulgar Cato has compelled
His energies, no longer tameless then,
To mould a pin, or fabricate a nail!
The more we study the more we discover our ignorance.
The more we study the more we discover our ignorance.
There is a snake in thy smile, my dear,
And bitter poison within thy tear.
There is a snake in thy smile, my dear,
And bitter poison within thy tear.
Better than all measures
Of delightful sound,
Better than all treasures
That in books read more
Better than all measures
Of delightful sound,
Better than all treasures
That in books are found,
Thy skilled to poet were, thou scorner of the ground!
Lost Echo sits amid the voiceless mountains,
And feeds her grief.
Lost Echo sits amid the voiceless mountains,
And feeds her grief.