* POETRY PROMPTS / PERCY SHELLEY .
* POETRY PROMPTS BY AUTHOR PERCY SHELLEY , FROM A VARIETY OF POEMS .
‘ Live not through the waste of time! ‘
‘ Nothing in the world is single; All things by a law divine. ‘
‘ In another’s being mingle- Why not I with thine? ‘
‘ No sister flower could be forgiven. If it disdained its brother. ‘
‘ What are all these kissings worth, If thou kiss not me? ‘
‘ Youth says, ‘The purple flowers are mine,’ Which die the while they glow. ‘
‘ Age cannot Love destroy, But perfidy can rend the shrine. ‘
‘ At first all deadly shapes were driven. ‘
‘ There was no sight or sound of dread, But that black Anchor floating still. ‘
‘ Was it aught else, or but the flow, Of the blood in her own veins, to and fro. ‘
‘ The rays of moon or sunlight ne’er endure. ‘
‘ Art thou indeed forever gone, Forever, ever, lost to me? ‘
‘ Must this poor bosom beat alone, Or beat at all, if not for thee? ‘
‘ Yet I do not reproach thee, dear! ‘
‘ This panting breast, this frenzied brain, Might wake my –’s slumb'ring tear. ‘
‘ To blot thee from my memory; But which might never, never be. ‘
‘ Oh! I had never lived before, But now those blisses are no more. ‘
‘ And now I cease to live again, I do not blame thee, love; ah, no! ‘
‘ The breast that feels this anguished woe. ‘
‘ Throbs for thy happiness alone. ‘
‘ Two years of speechless bliss are gone, I thank thee, dearest, for the dream. ‘
‘ ‘Tis night–what faint and distant scream, Comes on the wild and fitful blast? ‘
‘ It moans for pleasures that are past, It moans for days that are gone by. ‘
‘ Oh! lagging hours, how slow you fly! ‘
‘ I seem again to share thy smile, I seem to hang upon thy tone. ‘
‘ Athwart my enanguished senses flew, A fiercer, deadlier agony! ‘
‘ How sweet it is to sit and read the tales. ‘
‘ And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone, Love itself shall slumber on. ‘
‘ What is this world’s delight? ‘
‘ Lightning that mocks the night, Brief even as bright. ‘
‘ Virtue, how frail it is! ‘
‘ O that a chariot of cloud were mine! ‘
‘ A voice out of the deep: I will record the same. ‘
‘ If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind? ‘
‘ I weep,–my tears revive it not! ‘
‘ Too pure for these regions, to gleam in the skies. ’
‘ I’d yield to shed a tear, To shed on the grave of a heart so sincere. ‘
‘ Who telleth a tale of unspeaking death? ‘
‘ With the fears and the love for that which we see? ‘
‘ Who lifteth the veil of what is to come? ‘
‘ When all that we know, or feel, or see, Shall pass like an unreal mystery. ‘
‘ Misery–O Misery, This world is all too wide for thee. ‘
‘ Here lieth One whose name was writ on water. ‘
‘ And Tyranny, high raised, stern lowers on all? ‘
‘ Let me not madly stain their righteous cause in gore. ‘
‘ Ah! why was love to mortals given, To lift them to the height of Heaven, Or dash them to the depths of Hell? ‘
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