Vulgar words in The Complete Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley — Complete (Page 1)
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'Thou art Wisdom--Freemen never Dream that God will damn for ever _235 All who think those things untrue Of which Priests make such ado.
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_235 Dream Wise manuscript, Hunt manuscript, editions 1839; Dreams edition 1832. damn]doom editions 1839 only.
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Statesmen damn themselves to be Cursed; and lawyers damn their souls To the auction of a fee; Churchmen damn themselves to see _230 God's sweet love in burning coals.
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The rich are damned, beyond all cure, To taunt, and starve, and trample on The weak and wretched; and the poor Damn their broken hearts to endure _235 Stripe on stripe, with groan on groan.
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And every neighbouring cottager Stupidly yawned upon the other: No jackass brayed; no little cur _755 Cocked up his ears;--no man would stir To save a dying mother.
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The spider spreads her webs, whether she be In poet's tower, cellar, or barn, or tree; The silk-worm in the dark green mulberry leaves His winding sheet and cradle ever weaves; So I, a thing whom moralists call worm, _5 Sit spinning still round this decaying form, From the fine threads of rare and subtle thought-- No net of words in garish colours wrought To catch the idle buzzers of the day-- But a soft cell, where when that fades away, _10 Memory may clothe in wings my living name And feed it with the asphodels of fame, Which in those hearts which must remember me Grow, making love an immortality.
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His Grace of Canterbury expects to enter the New Jerusalem some Palm Sunday in triumph on the ghost of this ass.
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By thy most killing sneer, and by thy smile-- By all the arts and snares of thy black den, _50 And--for thou canst outweep the crocodile-- By thy false tears--those millstones braining men-- 14.
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this space is wide enough-- Look forth, you cannot see the end of it-- An hundred bonfires burn in rows, and they Who throng around them seem innumerable: _255 Dancing and drinking, jabbering, making love, And cooking, are at work.
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Come now, we'll go about from fire to fire: I'll be the Pimp, and you shall be the Lover.
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How much longer will man continue to pimp for the gluttony of Death, his most insidious, implacable, and eternal foe?