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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=478308" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Stanzas Written in Dejection, Near Naples</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=478308" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">I.<br>The sun is warm, the sky is clear, <br>The waves are dancing fast and bright, <br>Blue isles and snowy mountains wear <br>The purple noon's transparent might, <br>The breath of the moist earth is light, <br>Around its unexpanded buds; <br>Like many a voice of one delight <br>The winds, the birds, the ocean floods, <br>The city's voice itself, is soft like Solitude's. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=478308" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">II.<br>I see the deep's untrampled floor <br>With green and purple seaweeds strown; <br>I see the waves upon the shore, <br>Like light dissolved in star-showers, thrown: <br>I sit upon the sands alone,-- <br>The lightning of the noontide ocean <br>Is flashing round me, and a tone <br>Arises from its measured motion, <br>How sweet! did any heart now share in my emotion. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=478308" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">III.<br>Alas! I have nor hope nor health, <br>Nor peace within nor calm around, <br>Nor that content surpassing wealth <br>The sage in meditation found, <br>And walked with inward glory crowned-- <br>Nor fame nor power, nor love, nor leisure, <br>Others I see whom these surround-- <br>Smiling they live, and call life pleasure;-- <br>To me that cup has been dealt in another measure. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=478308" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">IV.<br>Yet now despair itself is mild, <br>Even as the winds and waters are; <br>I could lie down like a tired child, <br>And weep away the life of care <br>Which I have born and yet must bear, <br>Till death like sleep might steal on me, <br>And I might feel in the warm air <br>My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea <br>Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=478308" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">V.<br>Some might lament that I were cold, <br>As I, when this sweet day is gone, <br>Which my lost heart, too soon grown old, <br>Insults with this untimely moan; <br>They might lament -- for I am one <br>Whom men love not,-- and yet regret, <br>Unlike this day, which, when the sun <br>Shall on its stainless glory set, <br>Will linger, though enjoyed, like joy in memory yet.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Percy+Bysshe+Shelley">Percy Bysshe Shelley</a></strong></div>

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