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1792–1822

THE WANING MOON.

Percy Bysshe Shelley

And like a dying lady, lean and pale, Who totters forth, wrapped in a gauzy veil, Out of her chamber, led by the insane And feeble wanderings of her fading brain,

The moon arose up in the murky East, A white and shapeless mass —

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THE WANING MOON. · Percy Bysshe Shelley · Poetry Cove