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Shelley drunkenly stumbles across the line between epic old-world poetics and modern-day cynical sadboy verse and I'm pretty here for it.
Well, there's no question Shelley could write, though I found little of it that weathered well. If you can keep a straight face when confronted with rabid, self-indulgent Romanticism, then you will probably love Shelley. Alas, I cannot keep a straight face or love. Ah woe! Alas! pain, pain ever, forever!*#eyeroll*Sorry, Prometheus. I feel for you, just not so much when Shelley makes you say ridiculous things due to flimsy reasons involving THE GLORY OF POETRY.
My least favourite of the Romantics, but I do value him for his use of the lyric.
This boy is high drama
I'm in love with the poetry, just not the way it's been presented. The selection could have been done a bit better really.
It is the same: for, be it joy or sorrow,The path of its departure still is free.Man's yesterday may ne'er be like his morrow;Nought may endure but Mutability!Bought this slim volume for its portability. There were hopes for the transportive. I will leave Elevation to Bono and other (lower-case) bards. My thoughts while digesting this were often rich, if not fecund. Then reality beckoned and I shuddered. Oh Percy Bysse, why did you live so foolishly fully? This secret in the pregnant womb of tim...
Volim što se na kraju knjige nalazi deo pod nazivom „Komentari i beleške”, gde su za skoro svaku pesmu napisali pod kakvim oklonostima i uticajima je nastala: gde je pesnik tada bio, na šta se ona odnosi, kome je posvećena, šta se u trenutku kada je napisana dešavalo u pesnikovom životu ili društvu uopšte...
First came across a reference to these beautiful lines of Shelly in Joyce's A portrait of the artist as a young man: To The Moon -'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 That finds no object worth its constancy?'
Percy Bysshe Shelley, the English Romantic poet, was not as prolific as his contemporaries, i.e. John Keats and Lord Byron; nevertheless, his output of poesy seemed to have been produced when inspiration hit him the most. Each poem within this volume glows with stunning beauty and the spectrum of the emotions--love, melancholy, happiness, cheerfulness, wistfulness, &c. Many types of poems are in here, including odes, dirges, sonnets, and other forms. Shelley's words were made to read out loud to...
Shelley's internal rhyme ftw
