P.B. Shelley

"Music, when soft voices die,
Vibrates in the memory;
Odours, when sweet violets sicken,
Live within the sense they quicken.
Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
Are heap'd for the belovèd's bed;
And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,
Love itself shall slumber on."

Salutations,
I am the quintessential romantic poet who rebelled against English politics and conservative values. I was born on 4th August, 1792, at Field Place, near Horsham in Sussex, into an aristocratic family. My father, Timothy Shelley, was an MP. I went to Eton and in 1810 attended Oxford University to read Philosophy. I was duly expelled a year later for publishing "The Necessity Of Atheism".
My father, a conservative brute, withdrew his inheritance in favour of a small annuity, after which I eloped with the daughter of a drunken tavern owner. We spent the following two years travelling in England and Ireland, distributing pamphlets and speaking against political injustice. In 1813 I published my first important poem, "Queen Mab". Alas, my marriage to Harriet was a failure. In 1814 I travelled abroad with Mary Godwin, the daughter of the philosopher and anarchist William Godwin. Mary's young sister Claire Clairmont was also in the company.
After my return to London, I came into an annual income under my grandfather's will. Poor Harriet drowned herself in the Serpentine in 1816, and I wasted no time in marrying Mary. I spent the summer of 1816 frolicking around with my good friend Lord Byron at Lake Geneva, where Byron had an affair with Claire. They had a daughter, Allegra.
In 1818 we moved to Italy where Byron was residing. On the 8th of July, 1822, I sailed to Leghorn to welcome Leigh Hunt, and it was there that during the stormy return voyage to Lerici my yacht sank and I drowned. My body was washed ashore at Viareggio, where, in the presence of Byron and Leigh Hunt, it was burned on the beach. I was later buried in Rome (in the same cemetery as John Keats).
Among my other popular poems are the Odes "To the West Wind" and "To a Skylark", "Invocation", and "Adonais", my elegy for Keats.
Yours affectionately,
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