The rude wind is singing
The dirge of the music dead;
The cold worms are clinging
Where kisses were lately fed.
Cookies on Poetry Cove
We use cookies to remember your language preference and — only with your consent — to learn how Poetry Cove is used. You can change your mind any time.
FRAGMENT:‘ THE RUDE WIND IS SINGING’. · Percy Bysshe Shelley · Poetry Cove