Hello PoetryVoting

Vote

Voting-Boards

Home

HomeFollowingInboxNotifications

Read

ReadLiftedFeedsHeartedHistoryMy poemsNew poem

Explore

ExploreOrbitsWordsTagsClassics
Log in
0
Stars
0
Embers
0
Alerts
0
Inbox

Vote

Voting-Boards

Home

HomeFollowingInboxNotifications

Read

ReadLiftedFeedsHeartedHistoryMy poemsNew poem

Explore

ExploreOrbitsWordsTagsClassics
Log in
0
Stars
0
Embers
0
Alerts
0
Inbox

Sonnet: England in 1819 - 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 tempestous day.

Request permission to use this poem
s
Written by
sanja-trifunovic
Serbian
Published
Dec 28, 2009
Lines·Words
14·116
Permission

Request to use this poem

Tell sanja-trifunovic how you would like to use it. We review requests before forwarding them.

AboutBlogFAQPrivacyTermsContact
© 2009-2026 Hello Poetry/v27.0 by @eliotyork
Explore
Hello PoetryVoting
Write