"Stanzas Written in Dejection, Near Naples," by the English Romantic poet Percy Bysshe Shelley, is about isolation, alienation, and the vast, enduring beauty of the natural world. The poem depicts a lovely day by the Italian seaside that the speaker, despairing and alone, is too disheartened to appreciate. In fact, nature's loveliness seems only to highlight the depth of the speaker's lonely suffering, which he views as a kind of insult toward's nature's splendor. Eventually, however, the speaker does seem to feel somewhat consoled and soothed by his surroundings, suggesting nature's power to put human troubles in perspective. Shelley wrote this poem in December 1818, after a string of personal losses, including the death of his daughter Clara. It was published posthumously in 1824.
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1The Sun is warm, the sky is clear,
2The waves are dancing fast and bright,
3Blue isles and snowy mountains wear
4The purple noon's transparent might,
5The breath of the moist earth is light,
6Around its unexpanded buds;
7Like many a voice of one delight,
8The winds, the birds, the Ocean-floods;
9The City's voice itself is soft, like Solitude's.
10I see the Deep's untrampled floor
11With green and purple seaweeds strown;
12I see the waves upon the shore
13Like light dissolved in star-showers, thrown;
14I sit upon the sands alone;
15The lightning of the noontide Ocean
16Is flashing round me, and a tone
17Arises from its measured motion,
18How sweet! did any heart now share in my emotion.
19Alas! I have nor hope nor health,
20Nor peace within nor calm around,
21Nor that content surpassing wealth
22The sage in meditation found,
23And walked with inward glory crowned;
24Nor fame nor power nor love nor leisure—
25Others I see whom these surround,
26Smiling they live and call life pleasure:
27To me that cup has been dealt in another measure.
28Yet now despair itself is mild,
29Even as the winds and waters are;
30I could lie down like a tired child
31And weep away the life of care
32Which I have borne and yet must bear,
33Till Death like Sleep might steal on me,
34And I might feel in the warm air
35My cheek grow cold, and hear the Sea
36Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony.
37Some might lament that I were cold,
38As I, when this sweet day is gone,
39Which my lost heart, too soon grown old,
40Insults with this untimely moan—
41They might lament,—for I am one
42Whom men love not, and yet regret;
43Unlike this day, which, when the sun
44Shall on its stainless glory set,
45Will linger though enjoyed, like joy in Memory yet.
1The Sun is warm, the sky is clear,
2The waves are dancing fast and bright,
3Blue isles and snowy mountains wear
4The purple noon's transparent might,
5The breath of the moist earth is light,
6Around its unexpanded buds;
7Like many a voice of one delight,
8The winds, the birds, the Ocean-floods;
9The City's voice itself is soft, like Solitude's.
10I see the Deep's untrampled floor
11With green and purple seaweeds strown;
12I see the waves upon the shore
13Like light dissolved in star-showers, thrown;
14I sit upon the sands alone;
15The lightning of the noontide Ocean
16Is flashing round me, and a tone
17Arises from its measured motion,
18How sweet! did any heart now share in my emotion.
19Alas! I have nor hope nor health,
20Nor peace within nor calm around,
21Nor that content surpassing wealth
22The sage in meditation found,
23And walked with inward glory crowned;
24Nor fame nor power nor love nor leisure—
25Others I see whom these surround,
26Smiling they live and call life pleasure:
27To me that cup has been dealt in another measure.
28Yet now despair itself is mild,
29Even as the winds and waters are;
30I could lie down like a tired child
31And weep away the life of care
32Which I have borne and yet must bear,
33Till Death like Sleep might steal on me,
34And I might feel in the warm air
35My cheek grow cold, and hear the Sea
36Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony.
37Some might lament that I were cold,
38As I, when this sweet day is gone,
39Which my lost heart, too soon grown old,
40Insults with this untimely moan—
41They might lament,—for I am one
42Whom men love not, and yet regret;
43Unlike this day, which, when the sun
44Shall on its stainless glory set,
45Will linger though enjoyed, like joy in Memory yet.
The Sun is warm, the sky is clear,
The waves are dancing fast and bright,
Blue isles and snowy mountains wear
The purple noon's transparent might,
The breath of the moist earth is light,
Around its unexpanded buds;
Like many a voice of one delight,
The winds, the birds, the Ocean-floods;
The City's voice itself is soft, like Solitude's.
I see the Deep's untrampled floor
With green and purple seaweeds strown;
I see the waves upon the shore
Like light dissolved in star-showers, thrown;
I sit upon the sands alone;
The lightning of the noontide Ocean
Is flashing round me, and a tone
Arises from its measured motion,
How sweet! did any heart now share in my emotion.
Alas! I have nor hope nor health,
Nor peace within nor calm around,
Nor that content surpassing wealth
The sage in meditation found,
And walked with inward glory crowned;
Nor fame nor power nor love nor leisure—
Others I see whom these surround,
Smiling they live and call life pleasure:
To me that cup has been dealt in another measure.
Yet now despair itself is mild,
Even as the winds and waters are;
I could lie down like a tired child
And weep away the life of care
Which I have borne and yet must bear,
Till Death like Sleep might steal on me,
And I might feel in the warm air
My cheek grow cold, and hear the Sea
Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony.
Some might lament that I were cold,
As I, when this sweet day is gone,
Which my lost heart, too soon grown old,
Insults with this untimely moan—
They might lament,—for I am one
Whom men love not, and yet regret;
Unlike this day, which, when the sun
Shall on its stainless glory set,
Will linger though enjoyed, like joy in Memory yet.
Select any word below to get its definition in the context of the poem. The words are listed in the order in which they appear in the poem.
What is Romanticism? — An overview of the Romantic movement.
The Shelley-Godwin Archive — A collection of digitized manuscripts by the Shelley-Godwin family.
Tragedy in Italy — Read more about Percy and Mary Shelley's misfortune in Italy.
Shelley's Life and Work — A biography of the poet and additional poems via the Poetry Foundation.
A Reading of the Poem — Listen to the poem read aloud.