Poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley

The Vine-shroud

Flourishing vine, whose kindling clusters glow
Beneath the autumnal sun, none taste of thee;
For thou dost shroud a ruin, and below
The rotting bones of dead antiquity.

1. Liberty
2. Letter To Maria Gisborne
3. To Mary
4. To The Republicans Of North America
5. Homer's Hymn to Minerva

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