Date: 1820

"Ah woe! / Ah woe! Alas! pain, pain ever, for ever! / I close my tearless eyes, but see more clear / Thy works within my woe-illumèd mind, / Thou subtle tyrant!"

— Shelley, Percy Bysshe (1792-1822)

Date: 1820

"To cheer thy state / I bid ascend those subtle and fair spirits, / Whose homes are the dim caves of human thought, / And who inhabit, as birds wing the wind, / Its world-surrounding aether."

— Shelley, Percy Bysshe (1792-1822)

Date: 1820

"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 aëreal kisses / Of shapes that haunt thought's wildernesses."

— Shelley, Percy Bysshe (1792-1822)

Date: 1820

"Only a sense / Remains of them, like the omnipotence / Of music, when the inspired voice and lute / Languish, ere yet the responses are mute, / Which through the deep and labyrinthine soul, / Like echoes through long caverns, wind and roll."

— Shelley, Percy Bysshe (1792-1822)

Date: 1820

"And we breathe, and sicken not, / The atmosphere of human thought: / Be it dim, and dank, and gray, / Like a storm-extinguished day, / Travelled o'er by dying gleams; / Be it bright as all between / Cloudless skies and windless streams, / Silent, liquid, and serene; / As the birds within the win...

— Shelley, Percy Bysshe (1792-1822)

Date: 1821

"Swift as a Thought by the snake Memory stung, / From her ambrosial rest the fading Splendour sprung."

— Shelley, Percy Bysshe (1792-1822)

Date: 1821

"And his own thoughts, along that rugged way, / Pursued, like raging hounds, their father and their prey"

— Shelley, Percy Bysshe (1792-1822)

Date: 1821

One may have "A pardlike Spirit beautiful and swift."

— Shelley, Percy Bysshe (1792-1822)

Date: 1821

"Dust to the dust! but the pure spirit shall flow / Back to the burning fountain whence it came."

— Shelley, Percy Bysshe (1792-1822)

Date: 1821

"Like corpses in a charnel; fear and grief / Convulse us and consume us day by day, / And cold hopes swarm like worms within our living clay."

— Shelley, Percy Bysshe (1792-1822)