Τετάρτη, 21 Μαρτίου 2012

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!


Percy Bysshe Shelley


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