Quote World | The Quotes Shore

 Art Thou Pale For Weariness Art thou pale for weariness Of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth, Wandering companionless Among the stars that have a different birth, And ever changing, like a joyless eye The finds no object worth its constancy? Percy Bysshe Shelley

 Archy's Song from Charles the First Heigho! the lark and owl!      One flies the morning, and one lulls the night: Only the nightingale, poor fond soul,      Sings like the fool through darkness and light.      "A widow bird sate mourning for her love       Read full poem here (A widow bird)           Upon a wintry bough;      The frozen wind crept on above,           The freezing stream below."      "There was no leaf upon the forest bare,           No flower upon the ground,      And little motion in the air           Except the mill-wheel's sound." Percy Bysshe Shelly

 And like a Dying Lady, Lean and Pale And like a dying lady, lean and pale, Who totters forth, wrapp'd in a gauzy veil, Out of her chamber, led by the insane And feeble wanderings of her fading brain, The moon arose up in the murky East, A white and shapeless mass Percy Bysshe Shelly

 An Exhortation Chameleons feed on light and air: Poets' food is love and fame: If in this wide world fo care Poets could but find the same With as little toil as they, Would they ever change their hue As the light chameleons do, Suiting it to every ray Twenty times a day? Poets are on this cold earth, As chameleons might be, Hidden from their early birth In a cave beneath the sea; Where light is, chameleons change: Where love is not, poets do: Fame is love disguised: if few Find either, never think it strange That poet's range. Yet dare not stain with wealth or power A poet's free and heavenly mind: If bright chameleons should devour Any food but beams and wind, They would grow as earthly soon As their brother lizards are. Children of a sunnier star, Spirits from beyond the moon, O, refuse the boon! Percy Bysshe Shelly

The heart is like a grain of corn,  We are like a mill; How does the mill know why this turning?  The body is like a stone, and the water its thoughts;  The Stone says, “The water knows what is toward.”  The Water says, “Ask the miller, for it was he who flung this water down.”  The Miller says to you, “Bread-eater, if this does not turn, how shall the crumb-broth be?” Much Business is in the making; Silence, ask God, that He may tell you. (RUMI)

 Adonais I weep for Adonais -he is dead! O, weep fr Adonais! though our tears Thaw not the frost which binds so dear a head! And thou, sad Hour, selected from all years To mourn our loss, rouse thy obscure compeers, And teach them thine own sorrow, say: "with me Died Adonais; till the Future dares Forget the Past, his fate and fame shall be An echo and a light unto eternity!" Where wert thou, might Mother, when he lay, When thy Son lay, pierced by the shaft which flies In darkness? where was lorn Urania When Adonais died? With veiled eyes, Mid listening Echoes, in her Paradise She sate, while one, with soft enamoured breath, Rekindled all the fading melodies With which, like flowers that mock the corse beneath, He had adorned and hid the coming bulk of death. O, weep for Adonis -he is dead! Wake, melancholy Mother, wake and weep! Yet wherefore? Quench within their burning bed Thy fiery tears, and let thy loud heart keep Like his, a mute and uncomplaining sleep; For he is gone

ایک آرزو دُنیا کی محفِلوں سے اُکتا گیا ہُوں یا ربَِ   کیا لُطف انجمن کا جب دِل ہی بُجھ گیا ہو   شورش سے بھاگتا ہُوں ، دِل ڈھونڈتا ہے میرا  ایسا سکوُت جس پر تقدیر بھی فِدا ہو  مرتا ہوں خامشی پر ، یہ آرزو ہے میری  دامن میں کوہ کے اِک چھوٹا سا جھونپڑا ہو  آزاد فکر سے ہوں ، عُزلت میں دِن گُزاروں  دُنیا کے غم کا دِل سے کانٹا نِکل گیا ہو  لذّت سَرود کی ہو چڑیوں کے چہچہوں میں  چشمے کی شورَشوں میں باجا سا بج رہا ہو  گُل کی کلی چٹک کر پیغام دے کسی کا  ساغر ذرا سا گویا مجھ کو جہاں نُما ہو  ہو ہاتھ کا سَرَھانا، سبزے کا ہو بِچھونا  شرمائے جس سے جَلوَت ، خَلوَت میں وہ ادا ہو  مانُوس اِس قدر ہو صُورت سے میری بُلبُل  ننّھے سے دِل میں اُس کے کھٹکا نہ کُچھ مِرا ہو  صف باندھے دونوں جانب بُوٹے ہرے ہرے ہوں  ندِّی کا صاف پانی تصوِیر لے رہا ہو ہو  دِل فریب ایسا تصویر کا نظارہ  پانی بھی موج بن کر، اُٹھ اُٹھ کے دیکھتا ہو  آغوش میں زمِیں کی سویا ہوُا ہو سبزہ  پھر پھر کے جھاڑِیوں میں پانی چمک رہا ہو  پانی کو چھُو رہی ہو جُھک جُھک کے گُل کی ٹہنی  جیسے حَسِین کوئی، آئینہ دیکھتا ہو  مہندی لگائے سُورج جب شام

A Widow Bird Sate Mourning For Her Love A widow bird sate mourning for her Love Upon  wintry bough: The frozen wind crept on above, The freezing stream below. There was no leaf upon the forest bare, No flower upon the ground, And little motion in the air Except the mill-wheel's sound. Percy Bysshe Shelly

 A Summer Evening Churchyard The wind has swept from the wide atmosphere Each vapour that obscured the sunset's ray, And pallid Evening twines its beaming hair In duskier braids around the languid eyes of Day: Silence and Twilight, unbeloved of men, Creep hand in hand from on obscurest glen. They breathe their spells towards the departing day, Encompassing the earth, air, stars, and sea; Light, sound and motion, own the potent sway, Responding to the charm with its own mystery. The winds are still, or the dry church-tower grass Knows not their gentle motions as they pass. Thou too, aerial pile, whose pinnacles Point from one shrine like pyramids of fire, Obey'st I in silence their sweet solemn spells, Clothing in hues of heaven thy dim and distant spire, Around whose lessening and invisible height Gather among the stars the clouds of night. The dead are sleeping in their sepulchers: And, mouldering as they sleep, a thrilling sound, Half sense half thought, among the darkness st

A Lament O World! O Life! O Time! On whose last steps I climb, Trembling at that where I had stood before; When will return the glory of your prime? No more -Oh, never more! Out of the day and night A joy has taken flight: Fresh spring, and summer, and winter hoar Move my faint heart with grief, but with delight No more -Oh, never more!