|
|
Sonnet: England In 1819.
By Percy Bysshe Shelley
An old, mad, blind, despised, and dying king, -
Princes, the dregs of their dull race, who flow
Through public scorn, - mud from a muddy spring, -
Rulers who neither see, nor feel, nor know,
But leech-like to their fainting country cling,
Till they drop, blind in blood, without a blow, -
A people starved and stabbed in the untilled field, -
An army, which liberticide and prey
Makes as a two-edged sword to all who wield, -
Golden and sanguine laws which tempt and slay;
Religion Christless, Godless - a book sealed;
A Senate, - Time's worst statute, unrepealed, -
Are graves from which a glorious Phantom may
Burst, to illumine our tempestuous day.
Extra Info:
|
|
Printable Page
Add Your Thoughts on this poem.
This page viewed 378 times.
|
|
