Song Of Proserpine

Percy Bysshe Shelley

Sacred Goddess, Mother Earth,
     Thou from whose immortal bosom
Gods and men and beasts have birth,
     Leaf and blade, and bud and blossom,
Breathe thine influence most divine
On thine own child, Proserpine.

If with mists of evening dew
     Thou dost nourish these young flowers
Till they grow in scent and hue
     Fairest children of the Hours,
Breathe thine influence most divine
On thine own child, Proserpine.

Next 10 Poems

• Percy Bysshe Shelley : Song: Rarely, Rarely, Comest Thou
• Percy Bysshe Shelley : Stanzas Written In Dejection Near Naples
• Percy Bysshe Shelley : The Cloud
• Percy Bysshe Shelley : The Fitful Alternations Of The Rain
• Percy Bysshe Shelley : The Indian Serenade
• Percy Bysshe Shelley : The Invitation
• Percy Bysshe Shelley : The Question
• Percy Bysshe Shelley : The Triumph Of Life
• Percy Bysshe Shelley : The Two Spirits: An Allegory
• Percy Bysshe Shelley : The Waning Moon

Previous 10 Poems

• Percy Bysshe Shelley : Song
• Percy Bysshe Shelley : Rosalind And Helen: A Modern Eclogue
• Percy Bysshe Shelley : Remorse
• Percy Bysshe Shelley : Queen Mab: Part Vi ( Excerpts )
• Percy Bysshe Shelley : Prometheus Unbound: Act I ( Excerpt )
• Percy Bysshe Shelley : Ozymandias
• Percy Bysshe Shelley : One Word Is Too Often Profaned
• Percy Bysshe Shelley : One Sung Of Thee Who Left The Tale Untold
• Percy Bysshe Shelley : On Death
• Percy Bysshe Shelley : On A Dead Violet