Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822 / Horsham / England)
O That A Chariot Of Cloud Were Mine!
O that a chariot of cloud were mine!
Of cloud which the wild tempest weaves in air,
When the moon over the ocean’s line
Is spreading the locks of her bright gray hair.
O that a chariot of cloud were mine! 5
I would sail on the waves of the billowy wind
To the mountain peak and the rocky lake,
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