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 worlds wrong!
A Dirge
written byPercy Bysshe Shelley
© Percy Bysshe Shelley