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I wield the flail of the lashing hail, And whiten the green plains under; And then again I dissolve it in rain, And laugh as I pass in thunder.

Percy Bysshe Shelley

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Laughter Myself Rain Thunder Travel

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I have made my bed In charnels and on coffins, where black death Keeps record of the trophies won.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Bed Black Death Myself Reward Win
Dust to the dust! but the pure spirit shall flow Back to the burning fountain whence it came, A portion of the Eternal.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Burn Flow Forever Fountain Pure Spirit
The pleasure that is in sorrow is sweeter than the pleasure of pleasure itself.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Happiness Sorrow Sweet
A single word even may be a spark of inextinguishable thought.
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Literature Power Thinking Word
Rise like Lions after slumber In unvanquishable number- Shake your chains to earth like dew Which in sleep had fallen on you Ye are many-they are few.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Earth Fall Rise Sleep Yourself
If God has spoken, why is the world not convinced.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

God Religion Satisfaction Talk World
All love is sweet Given or returned. Common as light is love, And its familiar voice wearies not ever.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Light Love Return Voice
Worse than a bloody hand is a hard heart.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Blood Hands Hard Heart Worst
Poets, not otherwise than philosophers, painters, sculptors, and musicians, are, in one sense, the creators, and, in another, the creations, of their age.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Age Art Artist Creation Music Painting Philosophy Poet
A sensitive plant in a garden grew, And the young winds fed it with silver dew, And it opened its fan like leaves to the light, and closed them beneath the kisses of night.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Garden Growth Kiss Light Night Open Plant Wind Young
A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Bird Cheerful Darkness Poet Solitude Sound Sweet
All of us who are worth anything, spend our manhood in unlearning the follies, or expiating the mistakes of our youth.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Learning Man Mistake Ourselves Worth Youth
And Spring arose on the garden fair, Like the Spirit of Love felt everywhere; And each flower and herb on Earth’s dark breast rose from the dreams of its wintry rest.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Darkness Dreams Earth Fair Feeling Flower Garden Love Rest Rose Spirit
The great instrument of moral good is the imagination.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

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Poets are the hierophants of an unapprehended inspiration; the mirrors of the gigantic shadows which futurity casts upon the present.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Deep Future Inspirational Mirror Poet Present Shadow
There Is No God. This negation must be understood solely to affect a creative Deity. The hypothesis of a pervading Spirit co-eternal with the universe remains unshaken.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Creation God Spirit Understand Universe

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