Thy dewy looks sink in my breast;
Thy gentle words stir poison there;
Thou hast disturbed the only rest
That was the portion of despair!
Subdued to Duty's hard control,
I could have borne my wayward lot:
The chains that bind this ruined soul
Had cankered then-but crushed it not.
More verses by Percy Bysshe Shelley
- Fragment: Sufficient Unto The Day
- Lines Written On Hearing The News Of The Death Of Napoleon
- Fromthe Arabic: An Imitation
- To-- Yet Look On Me
- From The Greek Of Moschus