Weight of the Hour



    A pard-like Spirit beautiful and swift--
        A love in desolation masked--a power
    Girt round with weakness; it can scarce uplift
        The weight of the superincumbent hour.
        It is a dying lamp, a falling shower,
    A breaking billow;--even whilst we speak
        Is it not broken? On the withering flower
    The killing sun smiles brightly: on a cheek
The life can burn in blood even while the heart may break.

-Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822),
Adonais







images © 2000 by Randy Wang
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