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I arise from dreams of thee In the first sweet sleep of night, when the winds are breathing low, and the stars are shining bright.

Percy Bysshe Shelley

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Breathe Bright Dreams Night Shine Sleep Stars

Bagwalas

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The rich have become richer, and the poor have become poorer; and the vessel of the state is driven between the Scylla and Charybdis of anarchy and despotism.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Drive Fate Poor Rich Standard
First our pleasures die – and then our hopes, and then our fears – and when these are dead, the debt is due dust claims dust – and we die too.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Death Fear Happiness Hope Ourselves
The warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing, The bare boughs are sighing, the pale flowers are dying, And the Year On the earth her death-bed, in a shroud of leaves dead, Is lying.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Bed Death Earth Failure Flower Leaving Lying Sun Warm Wind
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
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
Government is an evil; it is only the thoughtlessness and vices of men that make it a necessary evil. When all men are good and wise, government will of itself decay.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Evil Goodness Government Man Necessary Thinking Vice Willing
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
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
Soul meets soul on lovers’ lips.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Lips Lover One Liner Relationship Soul Trouble
Honour sits smiling at the sale of truth.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Honor One Liner Smile Truth
The jealous keys of truth’s eternal doors.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Door Forever Jealous Key Truth
I love all waste And solitary places; where we taste The pleasure of believing what we see Is boundless, as we wish our souls to be.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Believe Love Ourselves Place See Soul Wasted
I love tranquil solitude.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Love Myself One Liner Solitude Tranquility
Worse than a bloody hand is a hard heart.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Blood Hands Hard Heart Worst
History is a cyclic poem written by time upon the memories of man.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

History Man Memories Poem Writing
I love tranquil solitude And such society As is quiet, wise, and good.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Goodness Love Myself Quiet Solitude Tranquility Wisdom

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