On A Dead Violet
Percy Bysshe Shelley
The odor from the flower is gone
Which like thy kisses breathed on me;
The color from the flower is flown
Which glowed of thee and only thee!
A shrivelled, lifeless, vacant form,
It lies on my abandoned breast;
And mocks the heart, which yet is warm,
With cold and silent rest.
I weep--my tears revive it not;
I sigh--it breathes no more on me:
Its mute and uncomplaining lot
Is such as mine should be.
Next 10 Poems
- Percy Bysshe Shelley : On Death
- Percy Bysshe Shelley : One Sung Of Thee Who Left The Tale Untold
- Percy Bysshe Shelley : One Word Is Too Often Profaned
- Percy Bysshe Shelley : Ozymandias
- Percy Bysshe Shelley : Prometheus Unbound: Act I ( Excerpt )
- Percy Bysshe Shelley : Queen Mab: Part Vi ( Excerpts )
- Percy Bysshe Shelley : Remorse
- Percy Bysshe Shelley : Rosalind And Helen: A Modern Eclogue
- Percy Bysshe Shelley : Song
- Percy Bysshe Shelley : Song Of Proserpine
Previous 10 Poems
- Percy Bysshe Shelley : Ode To The West Wind
- Percy Bysshe Shelley : Night
- Percy Bysshe Shelley : Mutability
- Percy Bysshe Shelley : Music, When Soft Voices Die
- Percy Bysshe Shelley : Mont Blanc: Lines Written In The Vale Of Chamouni
- Percy Bysshe Shelley : Mont Blanc
- Percy Bysshe Shelley : Love's Philosophy
- Percy Bysshe Shelley : Lines Written In The Bay Of Lerici
- Percy Bysshe Shelley : Lines Written Among The Euganean Hills
- Percy Bysshe Shelley : Lines
