Noonday Dew



And a light spear topped with a cypress-cone,
    Round whose rude shaft dark ivy-tresses grew
    Yet dripping with the forest's noonday dew,
Vibrated, as the ever-beating heart
    Shook the weak hand that grasped it.

-Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822),
Adonais







images © 2000 by Randy Wang
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