Percy Bysshe Shelley

(1792-1822 / Horsham / England)

The Waning Moon


And like a dying lady, lean and pale,
Who totters forth, wrapped in a gauzy veil,
Out of her chamber, led by the insane
And feeble wanderings of her fading brain,
The moon arose up in the murky east,
A white and shapeless mass.

Submitted: Friday, January 03, 2003

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