Art thou pale for weariness
Of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth,
Wandering companionless
Among the stars that have a different birth, -- 
And ever changing, like a joyless eye
That finds no object worth its constancy?

Added: Feb 20 2003 | Viewed: 1929 times | Comments (0)

Poet: Percy Bysshe Shelley
Poem: To The Moon

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