(1792-1822 / Horsham / England)

poet Percy Bysshe Shelley
#19 on top 500 poets
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( 113 votes )
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A Dirge

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 world’s wrong!

Submitted: Thursday, April 01, 2010
Edited: Monday, May 09, 2011

Comments about this poem (A Dirge by Percy Bysshe Shelley )

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  • Meef Meef (1/5/2012 10:49:00 AM)

    MEEF MEEF....... MEEF MEEF

    7 person liked.
    		3 person did not like.
  • Meef Meef (1/5/2012 10:48:00 AM)

    Boy, this sure is a swell poem!

    5 person liked.
    		3 person did not like.
Read all 2 comments »

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