A Dirge

Rough Wind, that moanest loud
Grief too sad for song;
Wild wind, when sullen cloud
Knells all the night long;
Sad storm, whose tears are vain,
Bare woods, whose branches strain,
Deep caves and dreary main, _
Wail, for the world’s wrong!

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

 

 

One Response to “A Dirge”

  1. George S. Williams Says:

    Way back, when I fancied myself a bit of a poet, this was one of my favorites. Ah, Shelly and Byron…

    Thanks for reminding me.

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