O thou, Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed The winged seeds, where they lie cold and low, Each like a corpse within its grave, until Thine azure sister of the spring shall blow Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth.
Percy Shelley (1792 - 1822)
Source: Ode to the West Wind.
Contributed by: Zaady
Peace, peace! he is not dead, he doth not sleep! He hath awaken from the dream of life!
Peter was dull; he was at first Dull,-oh so dull, so very dull! Whether he talked, wrote, or rehearsed, Still with this dulness was he cursed! Dull,-beyond all conception, dull.
Source: Peter Bell the Third. Part vii. xi.
Power, like a desolating pestilence, Pollutes whate'er it touches; and obedience, Bane of all genius, virtue, freedom, truth, Makes slaves of men, and of the human frame A mechanized automaton.
Source: Queen Mab. iii.
Sing again, with your dear voice revealing A tone Of some world far from ours, Where music and moonlight and feeling Are one.
Source: To Jane. The keen Stars were twinkling.
That orbed maiden with white fire laden, Whom mortals call the moon.
Source: The Cloud. iv.
The desire of the moth for the star, Of the night for the morrow, The devotion to something afar From the sphere of our sorrow.
Source: One Word is too often profaned.
The moon of Mahomet Arose, and it shall set; While, blazoned as on heaven's immortal noon, The cross leads generations on.
Source: Line 195.Line 221.
Heaven's ebon vault Studded with stars unutterably bright, Through which the moon's unclouded grandeur rolls, Seems like a canopy which love has spread To curtain her sleeping world.
Source: Queen Mab. iv.
His fine wit Makes such a wound, the knife is lost in it.
Source: Letter to Maria Gisborne
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