Fragment: 'My Head Is Wild With Weeping'.

My head is wild with weeping for a grief
Which is the shadow of a gentle mind.
I walk into the air (but no relief
To seek, - or haply, if I sought, to find;
It came unsought); - to wonder that a chief
Among men's spirits should be cold and blind.

Percy Bysshe Shelley

Percy Bysshe Shelley was one of the major English Romantic poets, widely regarded as one of the greatest lyric and philosophical poets in the English language. Born on August 4, 1792, Shelley was a key member of a close circle of visionary poets and writers that included Lord Byron, Leigh Hunt, Thomas Love Peacock, and his own wife, Mary Shelley, the author of Frankenstein. His poetic themes mainly explored radical social reform, personal liberation, and the power of human creativity and imagination. Tragically, he died young at the age of 29 in a boating accident in 1822. Though he faced criticism during his lifetime, his work garnered acclaim posthumously.

Percy Bysshe Shelley

The Fugitives.

Percy Bysshe Shelley, Simple Poetry

To Constantia.

Percy Bysshe Shelley, Simple Poetry

Fragment: A Roman's Chamber.

Percy Bysshe Shelley, Simple Poetry

Fragment: Rain.

Percy Bysshe Shelley, Simple Poetry

English

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Fragment: A Wanderer.

He wanders, like a day-appearing dream,
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Percy Bysshe Shelley

Fragment: Rain.

The fitful alternations of the rain,
When the chill wind, languid as with pain
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Fragment: Death In Life.

My head is heavy, my limbs are weary,
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Fragment: 'When Soft Winds And Sunny Skies'.

When soft winds and sunny skies
With the green earth harmonize,
And the young and dewy dawn,
Bold as an unhunted fawn,
Up the windless heaven is gone, -
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Percy Bysshe Shelley

Fragment: Rain.

The gentleness of rain was in the wind.

Percy Bysshe Shelley

Song.

Cold, cold is the blast when December is howling,
Cold are the damps on a dying man's brow, -
Stern are the seas when the wild waves are rolling,
And sad is the grave where a loved one lies low;
But colder is scorn from the being who loved thee,
More stern is the sneer from the friend who has proved thee,
More sad are the tears when their sorrows have moved thee,
Which mixed with groans anguish and wild madness flow -

And ah! poor - has felt all this horror,
Full long the fallen victim contended with fate:
'Till a destitute outcast abandoned to sorrow,
She sought her babe's food at her ruiner's gate -
Another had charmed the remorseless betrayer,
He turned laughing aside from her moans and her prayer,
She said nothing, but wringing the wet from her hair,
Cros...

Percy Bysshe Shelley