Wind of Night



Thine eyes glow'd in the glare
    Of the moon's dying light;
          As a fen-fire's beam
          On a sluggish stream
Gleams dimly--so the moon shone there,
And it yellow'd the strings of thy tangled hair,
        That shook in the wind of night.

-Percy Bysshe Shelley,
Lines: The cold earth slept below, 1823







images © 1998 by Randy Wang
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