Near that a dusty paint-box, some odd hooks, A half-burnt match, an ivory block, three books, Where conic sections, spherics, logarithms, To great Laplace, from Saunderson and Sims, Lie heaped in their harmonious disarray Of figures,-disentangle them who may.
Percy Bysshe ShelleyAh! what a divine religion might be found out if charity were really made the principle of it instead of faith.
Percy Bysshe ShelleyOne word is too often profaned For me to profane it, One feeling too falsely disdained For thee to disdain it.
Percy Bysshe ShelleyThere is eloquence in the tongueless wind, and a melody in the flowing brooks and the rustling of the reeds beside them, which by their inconceivable relation to something within the soul, awaken the spirits to a dance of breathless rapture, and bring tears of mysterious tenderness to the eyes, like the enthusiasm of patriotic success, or the voice of one beloved singing to you alone.
Percy Bysshe Shelley