Thy dewy looks sink in my breast;
Thy gentle words stir poison there;
Thou hast disturbed the only rest
That was the portion of despair!
Subdued to Duty-s hard control,
I could have borne my wayward lot:
The chains that bind this ruined soul
Had cankered then-but crushed it not.
Stanza, Written At Bracknell
Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Poem topics: despair, soul, gentle, hard, duty, poison, portion, control, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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