Volume 26 — SHELLEY.
Reading edition
Shelley, the wondrous music of thy soul Breathes in the cloud and in the skylark's song, That float as an embodied dream along The dewy lids of Morning. In the dole That haunts the west wind, in the joyous roll Of Arethusan fountains, or among The wastes where Ozymandias the strong Lies in colossal ruin, thy control Speaks in the wedded rhyme. Thy spirit gave A fragrance to all Nature, and a tone To inexpressive Silence. Each apart— Earth, Air and Ocean—claims thee as its own, The twain that bred thee, and the panting wave That clasped thee like an overflowing heart. J. B. Tabb.