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.

Added: on October 27th, 2005 at 5:05 PM | Viewed: 1010 times | Comments (1)

Poet: Percy Bysshe Shelley
Poem: The Waning Moon

Are you looking for more information on this poem? Perhaps you are trying to analyze it? The poem, The Waning Moon, has received one comment so far. Click here to read it, and perhaps post a comment of your own. Of course you can also always discuss poems by Percy Bysshe Shelley with others on the Poetry Connection poetry forum!