Poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley

Stanza, Written At Bracknell

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. 

1. Matilda Gathering Flowers
2. From the Arabic, an Imitation
3. The Solitary
4. To The Republicans Of North America
5. I Would Not Be A King

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