Monday, May 23, 2005

A little crazy Shelley garden poetry

And the sinuous paths of lawn and of moss,
Which led through the garden along and across,
Some open at once to the sun and the breeze,
Some lost among bowers of blossoming trees,

Were all paved with daisies and delicate bells
As fair as the fabulous asphodels,
And flow'rets which, drooping as day drooped too,
Fell into pavilions, white, purple, and blue,
To roof the glow-worm from the evening dew. (49-57)


But the Sensitive Plant which could give small fruit
Of the love which it felt from the leaf to the root,
Received more than all, it loved more than ever,
Where none wanted but it, could belong to the giver,

--For the Sensitive Plant has no bright flower;
Radiance and odour are not its dower;
It loves, even like Love, its deep heart is full,
It desires what it has not, the Beautiful! (70-77)

from "The Sensitive Plant," Percy Bysshe Shelley 1820
Courtesy of the lovely Gina.


gina said...

Uhm, you've copied my typo on "Beautiful." I don't know how to revise comments, so I didn't fix it (can you revise comments?) when I posted it. But you have the chance to redeem me!

Such a weird cool poem. I'm thrilled to see it here with your garden flowers.


Suzanne said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Suzanne said...

What typo? ;-)

Now I can read it over and over and over. (I love it, my favorite things all in one gorgeous package.)

P.S. No, you can't revise comments. It drives me nuts.

:..M..: said...

I've chanced upon your blog. Although I haven't really gone through it thoroughly, I know I'd come back.

I like this poem by Shelley, hence I chose to comment here.