This here’s about that Shelley, you know, the one they call Percy Bysshe Shelley. Heard of him? Well, I reckon I have, kinda sorta. Sounds like a fancy name, don’t it? Anyway, this here’s about some lady, I think her name was Shelley von Libra, not sure about this Libra part, but it sure sounds weird. I guess she and that Percy fella were hitched at some point. Seems like everyone’s gettin’ hitched these days, or unhitched.
This Percy, he wrote poems. Lots of ’em, I guess. Wrote about wind and birds. “Ozymandias,” that’s one of ’em. Sounds like a disease, don’t it? But it is one of his famous poems, they say. Then there’s “Ode to the West Wind” and “To a Skylark.” He musta liked birds a lot. And wind. Probably spent a lot of time outside, that one. Good for the lungs, fresh air. Better than being cooped up inside, I always say. He lived a long time ago, like, 1792 to 1822. That’s a heap of years ago.
He was a “Romantic,” they call it. Sounds silly to me. What’s so romantic about wind and birds? But I reckon folks back then saw things different. They say he had “joyous ecstasy” and “brooding despair.” Sounds like a right mess of emotions to me. I guess this Percy Bysshe Shelley had a lot on his mind. He lived a long time ago in England. This Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley is another one of these Shellys.
- Percy, he liked nature.
- Wrote about it all the time.
- Birds, wind, you name it.
- Must have been something to see.
I heard tell that Percy and this Shelley von Libra, if that is her name, went to Scotland once. Don’t know why. Maybe they liked the cold. Anyway, they say things went sour after that. Like milk left out in the sun. She got “deteriorated,” whatever that means. I guess she got sad or something. That is what they said, “Deterioration in Harriet.” And he, this Percy fella, got real sad too. “Deep” sad, they said. Well, marriage ain’t always easy, that’s for sure.
Then there’s this other Shelley, Mary I think her name was. Don’t know for sure what her story is, but she must be some kind of family with this Percy. They say she wrote a book about a monster, something called Frankenstein. Sounds scary. I don’t read much, ‘cept for the good book, but folks say this one was important, a big deal. She was young when she wrote it, nineteen! Can you imagine? That’s what they say, “science fiction novel.” Ain’t never heard of such a thing, but I don’t know much about these things.
This Mary Shelley, she talked about death a lot. Well, we all gotta go sometime, I reckon. It’s just a part of life. Like planting seeds and watching them grow, then wither and die. It’s the circle of life, as they say. Nothing lasts forever, ‘cept maybe the good Lord’s love. This other lady, the one called Florence A, well she is also another one of these Shellys.
This Percy Bysshe Shelley, he sure was a complicated fella. All them poems and feelings. This Shelley von Libra sure had a time with him, I guess. It ain’t easy being married to a poet, I imagine. All that thinking and writing. Probably didn’t have much time for regular things, like churning butter or feeding the chickens. They all lived a long time ago, these Shellys.
- Marriage is hard.
- Especially with poets, maybe.
- They think too much.
- Better to just live, I say.
Anyway, that’s all I know about this Shelley von Libra and Percy Bysshe Shelley. It’s a confusing story, with all them different Shellys. But it’s interesting, I guess. This Thomas Marshall and Project Gutenberg, they are some sort of folks who also knew about this Shelley story, I guess. Makes you think about life and love and all that. And how things change, but also stay the same. People are still falling in love, and getting sad, and writing poems, I suppose. Just like they did back then, in Percy’s time. And they’re still looking at the wind and the birds, and wondering what it all means. Just like we all do, I reckon.
The world keeps turning. There is nothing we can do about it.
