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Poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley


The Tower Of Famine


Amid the desolation of a city,
Which was the cradle, and is now the grave
Of an extinguished people,so that Pity

Weeps oer the shipwrecks of Oblivions wave,
There stands the Tower of Famine. It is built
Upon some prison-homes, whose dwellers rave

For bread, and gold, and blood: Pain, linked to Guilt,
Agitates the light flame of their hours,
Until its vital oil is spent or spilt.

There stands the pile, a tower amid the towers
And sacred domes; each marble-ribbed roof,
The brazen-gated temples, and the bowers

Of solitary wealth,--the tempest-proof
Pavilions of the dark Italian air,--
Are by its presence dimmed--they stand aloof,

And are withdrawnso that the world is bare;
As if a spectre wrapped in shapeless terror
Amid a company of ladies fair

Should glide and glow, till it became a mirror
Of all their beauty, and their hair and hue,
The life of their sweet eyes, with all its error,
Should be absorbed, till they to marble grew. 

1820

Percy Bysshe Shelley


Percy Bysshe Shelley's other poems:
  1. Letter To Maria Gisborne
  2. Liberty
  3. To Mary
  4. To The Republicans Of North America
  5. Homer's Hymn to Minerva


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