A dream has power to poison sleep.
Percy Bysshe ShelleyRead
A sensitive plant in a garden grew,_x000D_ _x000D_ And the young winds fed it with silver dew,_x000D_ _x000D_ And it opened its fan_x000D_ _x000D_ like leaves to the light,_x000D_ _x000D_ and closed them beneath the kisses of night.
Interpretation
What this quote means
The quote personifies a plant growing and responding to its environment, symbolizing sensitivity and the nurturing aspects of nature.
In this quote, Percy Bysshe Shelley beautifully captures the delicate relationship between nature and its surroundings. The sensitive plant, which is nurtured by the winds and experiences the contrast between the nurturing light of day and the gentle darkness of night, symbolizes vulnerability and the soft, reciprocal interactions in the natural world. It reflects on how life flourishes through the care it receives and hints at the duality of existence—flourishing under positive influences and retreating in the face of adversity.
Themes
SensitivityNatureGrowthEnvironmentVulnerability
In practice
Example use cases
This quote can be used in a speech about the importance of nurturing our environment.
More from Percy Bysshe Shelley
All quotes →Senseless is the breast and cold _x000D_ _x000D_ Which relenting love would fold;_x000D_ _x000D_ Bloodless are the veins and chill _x000D_ _x000D_ Which the pulse of pain did fill; _x000D_ _x000D_ Every little living nerve _x000D_ _x000D_ That from bitter words did swerve _x000D_ _x000D_ Round the tortur'd lips and brow, _x000D_ _x000D_ Are like sapless leaflets now _x000D_ _x000D_ Frozen upon December's bough.
Percy Bysshe ShelleyRead
I am the daughter of Earth and Water, And the nursling of the Sky; I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores; I change, but I cannot die. For after the rain when with never a stain The pavilion of Heaven is bare, And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams Build up the blue dome of air, I silently laugh at my own cenotaph, And out of the caverns of rain, Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb, I arise and unbuild it again.
Percy Bysshe ShelleyRead
O, wind, if winter comes, can spring be far behind?
Percy Bysshe ShelleyRead
Ah, woe is me! Winter is come and gone. But grief returns with the revolving year.
Percy Bysshe ShelleyRead
Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.
Percy Bysshe ShelleyRead
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