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Best Famous Percy Bysshe Shelley Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Percy Bysshe Shelley poems. This is a select list of the best famous Percy Bysshe Shelley poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Percy Bysshe Shelley poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of Percy Bysshe Shelley poems.

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Written by Percy Bysshe Shelley |

A Dream of the Unknown

I DREAM'D that as I wander'd by the way 
Bare winter suddenly was changed to spring, 
And gentle odours led my steps astray, 
Mix'd with a sound of waters murmuring 
Along a shelving bank of turf, which lay 5 
Under a copse, and hardly dared to fling 
Its green arms round the bosom of the stream, 
But kiss'd it and then fled, as thou mightest in dream.
There grew pied wind-flowers and violets, Daisies, those pearl'd Arcturi of the earth, 10 The constellated flower that never sets; Faint oxlips; tender bluebells, at whose birth The sod scarce heaved; and that tall flower that wets¡ª Like a child, half in tenderness and mirth¡ª Its mother's face with heaven-collected tears, 15 When the low wind, its playmate's voice, it hears.
And in the warm hedge grew lush eglantine, Green cow-bind and the moonlight-colour'd may, And cherry-blossoms, and white cups, whose wine Was the bright dew yet drain'd not by the day; 20 And wild roses, and ivy serpentine With its dark buds and leaves, wandering astray; And flowers azure, black, and streak'd with gold, Fairer than any waken'd eyes behold.
And nearer to the river's trembling edge 25 There grew broad flag-flowers, purple prank'd with white, And starry river-buds among the sedge, And floating water-lilies, broad and bright, Which lit the oak that overhung the hedge With moonlight beams of their own watery light; 30 And bulrushes, and reeds of such deep green As soothed the dazzled eye with sober sheen.
Methought that of these visionary flowers I made a nosegay, bound in such a way That the same hues, which in their natural bowers 35 Were mingled or opposed, the like array Kept these imprison'd children of the Hours Within my hand,¡ªand then, elate and gay, I hasten'd to the spot whence I had come That I might there present it¡ªoh! to Whom? 40

Written by Percy Bysshe Shelley |

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 ¡ª 
And ever-changing like a joyless eye 5 
That finds no object worth its constancy? 

Written by Percy Bysshe Shelley |

Ozymandias of Egypt

I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said:  "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert.
Near them, on the sand, Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed; 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.

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Written by Percy Bysshe Shelley |

The Poets Dream

ON a Poet's lips I slept  
Dreaming like a love-adept 
In the sound his breathing kept; 
Nor seeks nor finds he mortal blisses  
But feeds on the aerial kisses 5 
Of shapes that haunt Thought's wildernesses.
He will watch from dawn to gloom The lake-reflected sun illume The blue bees in the ivy-bloom Nor heed nor see what things they be¡ª 10 But from these create he can Forms more real than living man Nurslings of Immortality!

Written by Percy Bysshe Shelley |

Autumn: A Dirge

 The warm sun is falling, the bleak wind is wailing,
The bare boughs are sighing, the pale flowers are dying,
And the Year
On the earth is her death-bed, in a shroud of leaves dead,
Is lying.
Come, Months, come away, From November to May, In your saddest array; Follow the bier Of the dead cold Year, And like dim shadows watch by her sepulchre.
The chill rain is falling, the nipped worm is crawling, The rivers are swelling, the thunder is knelling For the Year; The blithe swallows are flown, and the lizards each gone To his dwelling.
Come, Months, come away; Put on white, black and gray; Let your light sisters play-- Ye, follow the bier Of the dead cold Year, And make her grave green with tear on tear.

Written by 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 5 
Are heap'd for the belov¨¨d's bed: 
And so thy thoughts when thou art gone  
Love itself shall slumber on.

Written by Percy Bysshe Shelley |

Loves 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 5 
All things by a law divine 
In one another's being mingle¡ª 
Why not I with thine? 

See the mountains kiss high heaven  
And the waves clasp one another; 10 
No sister-flower would be forgiven 
If it disdain'd its brother; 
And the sunlight clasps the earth  
And the moonbeams kiss the sea¡ª 
What are all these kissings worth 15 
If thou kiss not me?

Written by Percy Bysshe Shelley |

The Moon

AND, like a dying lady lean and pale,

Who totters forth, wrapp'd in a gauzy veil, 
Out of her chamber, led by the insane 
And feeble wanderings of her fading brain, 
The mood arose up in the murky east, 5 
A white and shapeless mass.
II Art thou pale for weariness Of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth, Wandering companionless Among the stars that have a different birth, 10 And ever changing, like a joyless eye That finds no object worth its constancy?

Written by Percy Bysshe Shelley |

To the Night

SWIFTLY walk over the western wave  
Spirit of Night! 
Out of the misty eastern cave 
Where all the long and lone daylight  
Thou wovest dreams of joy and fear 5 
Which make thee terrible and dear ¡ª 
Swift be thy flight! 

Wrap thy form in a mantle gray  
Blind with thine hair the eyes of Day 10 
Kiss her until she be wearied out: 
Then wander o'er city and sea and land  
Touching all with thine opiate wand¡ª 
Come long-sought! 

When I arose and saw the dawn 15 
I sigh'd for thee; 
When light rode high and the dew was gone  
And noon lay heavy on flower and tree  
And the weary Day turn'd to his rest 
Lingering like an unloved guest 20 
I sigh'd for thee.
Thy brother Death came and cried Wouldst thou me? Thy sweet child Sleep the filmy-eyed Murmur'd like a noontide bee 25 Shall I nestle near thy side? Wouldst thou me? ¡ªAnd I replied No, not thee! Death will come when thou art dead Soon too soon; 30 Sleep will come when thou art fled: Of neither would I ask the boon I ask of thee belov¨¨d Night¡ª Swift be thine approaching flight Come soon soon! 35

Written by Percy Bysshe Shelley |

A widow bird sate mourning for her Love

A WIDOW bird sate mourning for her Love 
Upon a wintry bough; 
The frozen wind crept on above  
The freezing stream below.
There was no leaf upon the forest bare.
5 No flower upon the ground And little motion in the air Except the mill-wheel's sound.

Written by Percy Bysshe Shelley |

The Flight of Love

WHEN the lamp is shatter'd 
The light in the dust lies dead¡ª 
When the cloud is scatter'd  
The rainbow's glory is shed.
When the lute is broken 5 Sweet tones are remember'd not; When the lips have spoken Lov'd accents are soon forgot.
As music and splendour Survive not the lamp and the lute 10 The heart's echoes render No song when the spirit is mute¡ª No song but sad dirges Like the wind through a ruin'd cell Or the mournful surges 15 That ring the dead seaman's knell.
When hearts have once mingl'd Love first leaves the well-built nest; The weak one is singl'd To endure what it once possesst.
20 O Love! who bewailest The frailty of all things here Why choose you the frailest For your cradle your home and your bier? Its passions will rock thee 25 As the storms rock the ravens on high; Bright reason will mock thee Like the sun from a wintry sky.
From thy nest every rafter Will rot and thine eagle home 30 Leave thee naked to laughter When leaves fall and cold winds come.

Written by Percy Bysshe Shelley |

The Recollection

NOW the last day of many days, 
All beautiful and bright as thou, 
The loveliest and the last, is dead: 
Rise, Memory, and write its praise! 
Up¡ªto thy wonted work! come, trace 5 
The epitaph of glory fled, 
For now the earth has changed its face, 
A frown is on the heaven's brow.
We wander'd to the Pine Forest That skirts the ocean's foam.
10 The lightest wind was in its nest, The tempest in its home; The whispering waves were half asleep, The clouds were gone to play, And on the bosom of the deep 15 The smile of heaven lay: It seem'd as if the hour were one Sent from beyond the skies Which scatter'd from above the sun A light of Paradise! 20 We paused amid the pines that stood The giants of the waste, Tortured by storms to shapes as rude As serpents interlaced,¡ª And soothed by every azure breath 25 That under heaven is blown, To harmonies and hues beneath, As tender as its own.
Now all the tree-tops lay asleep Like green waves on the sea, 30 As still as in the silent deep The ocean-woods may be.
How calm it was!¡ªThe silence there By such a chain was bound, That even the busy woodpecker 35 Made stiller by her sound The inviolable quietness; The breath of peace we drew With its soft motion made not less The calm that round us grew.
40 There seem'd, from the remotest seat Of the wide mountain waste To the soft flower beneath our feet, A magic circle traced,¡ª A spirit interfused around 45 A thrilling silent life; To momentary peace it bound Our mortal nature's strife;¡ª And still I felt the centre of The magic circle there 50 Was one fair form that fill'd with love The lifeless atmosphere.
We paused beside the pools that lie Under the forest bough; Each seem'd as 'twere a little sky 55 Gulf'd in a world below¡ª A firmament of purple light Which in the dark earth lay, More boundless than the depth of night And purer than the day¡ª 60 In which the lovely forests grew As in the upper air, More perfect both in shape and hue Than any spreading there.
There lay the glade and neighbouring lawn, 65 And through the dark-green wood The white sun twinkling like the dawn Out of a speckled cloud.
Sweet views which in our world above Can never well be seen 70 Were imaged in the water's love Of that fair forest green; And all was interfused beneath With an Elysian glow, An atmosphere without a breath, 75 A softer day below.
Like one beloved, the scene had lent To the dark water's breast Its every leaf and lineament With more than truth exprest; 80 Until an envious wind crept by, Like an unwelcome thought Which from the mind's too faithful eye Blots one dear image out.
¡ªThough thou art ever fair and kind, 85 The forests ever green, Less oft is peace in Shelley's mind Than calm in waters seen!

Written by Percy Bysshe Shelley |

A Lament

O WORLD! O Life! O Time! 
On whose last steps I climb  
Trembling at that where I had stood before; 
When will return the glory of your prime? 
No more¡ªoh never more! 5 

Out of the day and night 
A joy has taken flight: 
Fresh spring and summer and winter hoar 
Move my faint heart with grief but with delight 
No more¡ªoh never more! 10 

Written by Percy Bysshe Shelley |

On Death

 The pale, the cold, and the moony smile
Which the meteor beam of a starless night
Sheds on a lonely and sea-girt isle,
Ere the dawning of morn's undoubted light,
Is the flame of life so fickle and wan
That flits round our steps till their strength is gone.
O man! hold thee on in courage of soul Through the stormy shades of thy wordly way, And the billows of clouds that around thee roll Shall sleep in the light of a wondrous day, Where hell and heaven shall leave thee free To the universe of destiny.
This world is the nurse of all we know, This world is the mother of all we feel, And the coming of death is a fearful blow To a brain unencompass'd by nerves of steel: When all that we know, or feel, or see, Shall pass like an unreal mystery.
The secret things of the grave are there, Where all but this frame must surely be, Though the fine-wrought eye and the wondrous ear No longer will live, to hear or to see All that is great and all that is strange In the boundless realm of unending change.
Who telleth a tale of unspeaking death? Who lifteth the veil of what is to come? Who painteth the shadows that are beneath The wide-winding caves of the peopled tomb? Or uniteth the hopes of what shall be With the fears and the love for that which we see?

Written by Percy Bysshe Shelley |


AWAY! the moor is dark beneath the moon  
Rapid clouds have drunk the last pale beam of even: 
Away! the gathering winds will call the darkness soon  
And profoundest midnight shroud the serene lights of heaven.
Pause not! the time is past! Every voice cries 'Away!' 5 Tempt not with one last tear thy friend's ungentle mood: Thy lover's eye so glazed and cold dares not entreat thy stay: Duty and dereliction guide thee back to solitude.
Away away! to thy sad and silent home; Pour bitter tears on its desolated hearth; 10 Watch the dim shades as like ghosts they go and come And complicate strange webs of melancholy mirth.
The leaves of wasted autumn woods shall float around thine head The blooms of dewy Spring shall gleam beneath thy feet: But thy soul or this world must fade in the frost that binds the dead 15 Ere midnight's frown and morning's smile ere thou and peace may meet.
The cloud shadows of midnight possess their own repose For the weary winds are silent or the moon is in the deep; Some respite to its turbulence unresting ocean knows; Whatever moves or toils or grieves hath its appointed sleep.
20 Thou in the grave shalt rest:¡ªyet till the phantoms flee Which that house and heath and garden made dear to thee erewhile Thy remembrance and repentance and deep musings are not free From the music of two voices and the light of one sweet smile.