AND, like a dying lady lean and pale,
Who totters forth, wrapp'd in a gauzy veil,
Out of her chamber, led by the insane
And feeble wanderings of her fading brain,
The mood arose up in the murky east, 5
A white and shapeless mass.
Art thou pale for weariness
Of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth,
Among the stars that have a different birth, 10
And ever changing, like a joyless eye
That finds no object worth its constancy?
| Best Poems | Short Poems
Email Poem |
Top Percy Bysshe Shelley Poems
Analysis and Comments on The Moon
Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem The Moon here.
Commenting has been disabled for now.