Dirge                        by Percy Bysshe Shelley

 

                           “Rough wind, that moanest loud

                           Grief too sad for song;

                           Wildwind, 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!”