The World's Wanderers
By Percy Bysshe Shelley - 1792-1822
I
Tell me, thou star, whose wings of light
Speed thee in thy fiery flight,
In what cavern of the night
Will thy pinions close now?
II
Tell me, moon, thou pale and grey
Pilgrim of heaven’s homeless way,
In what depth of night or day
Seekest thou repose now?
III
Weary wind, who wanderest
Like the world’s rejected guest,
Hast thou still some secret nest
On the tree or billow?
1 comment:
Hi Joe! Perhaps the following by poetry's original hippie is premature but appropriate, Roderick
The fountains mingle with the river
And the rivers with the ocean,
The winds of heaven mix for ever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single,
All things by a law divine
In one another's being mingle—
Why not I with thine?
See the mountains kiss high heaven,
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister-flower would be forgiven
If it disdain'd its brother;
And the sunlight clasps the earth,
And the moonbeams kiss the sea—
What is all this sweet work worth
If thou kiss not me?
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