Sherry Chandler » Shelley
Shelley
England In 1819
An old, mad, blind, despised, and dying king,
Princes, the dregs of their dull race, who flow
Through public scorn–mud from a muddy spring,
Rulers who neither see, nor feel, nor know,
But leech-like to their fainting country cling,
Till they drop, blind in blood, without a blow,
A people starved and stabbed in the untilled field,
An army, which liberticide and prey
Makes as a two-edged sword to all who wield,
Golden and sanguine laws which tempt and slay,
Religion Christless, Godless - a book seal’d,
A Senate - Time’s worst statute unrepealed,
Are graves, from which a glorious Phantom may
Burst, to illumine our tempestuous day.
— Percy Bysshe Shelley
- Memorizing poems
- No wonder I was interested in Mary Shelley
- Spider with Poem
- Yeats
- Voyager’s Golden Record
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