English poem

On Fanny Godwin

Her voice did quiver as we parted, Yet knew I not that heart was broken From which it came, and I departed Heeding not the words then spoken. Misery--O Misery, This world is all too wide for thee.

More by Percy Bysshe Shelley

On A Faded Violet.
On a Fete at Carlton House: Fragment
On An Icicle That Clung To The Grass Of A Grave.
On Death
On Leaving London for Wales
On Robert Emmet's Grave
On the Dark Height of Jura
On The Medusa Of Leonardo Da Vinci In The Florentine Gallery.

All 844 poems by Percy Bysshe Shelley