Poetry of the Week: The Shelleys

Did you know that Mary Shelley, author of Frankenstein, wrote poetry? I didn't. She doesn't seem to have published many, admittedly, and I was only able to find one in full version on my usual poetry sites, but now I'm inclined to go searching.

Her husband, Percy, is the poet of the pair, with a prolific portfolio of Romantic verse inspiring many poets who followed him. He brought us Ozymandias and "Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!" while Mary invented science fiction as a genre.

The Shelleys and Byron are a fascinating trio, for their literary contributions, their politics, and what we know of their lives, and one day I'd like to spend a good amount of time digging into their works and history.  But for now, enjoy the one poem I could find from Mary, and the oldest poem known for Percy (which reminds of nothing more than my cat's pitiable yowling whenever he feels his food bowl is in need of attention).


Stanzas - Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley
Oh, come to me in dreams, my love! 
I will not ask a dearer bliss; 
Come with the starry beams, my love, 
And press mine eyelids with thy kiss. 

’Twas thus, as ancient fables tell, 
Love visited a Grecian maid, 
Till she disturbed the sacred spell, 
And woke to find her hopes betrayed. 

But gentle sleep shall veil my sight, 
And Psyche’s lamp shall darkling be, 
When, in the visions of the night, 
Thou dost renew thy vows to me. 

Then come to me in dreams, my love, 
I will not ask a dearer bliss; 
Come with the starry beams, my love, 
And press mine eyelids with thy kiss.


Verses on a Cat - Percy Bysshe Shelley 
I. 
A cat in distress, 
Nothing more, nor less; 
Good folks, I must faithfully tell ye, 
As I am a sinner, 
It waits for some dinner  
To stuff out its own little belly.

II. 
You would not easily guess 
All the modes of distress 
Which torture the tenants of earth; 
And the various evils,  
Which like so many devils, 
Attend the poor souls from their birth.

III. 
Some a living require, 
And others desire 
An old fellow out of the way;  
And which is the best 
I leave to be guessed, 
For I cannot pretend to say.

IV. 
One wants society, 
Another variety,  
Others a tranquil life; 
Some want food, 
Others, as good, 
Only want a wife.

V. 
But this poor little cat  
Only wanted a rat, 
To stuff out its own little maw;
And it were as good 
SOME people had such food, 
To make them HOLD THEIR JAW!