A Widow Bird Sate Mourning For Her Love

Percy Bysshe Shelley

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A widow bird sate mourning for her Love
Upon a wintry bough;
The frozen wind crept on above,
The freezing stream below.

There was no leaf upon the forest bare,
No flower upon the ground,
And little motion in the air
Except the mill-wheel's sound.

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Comments1
  • dilloneddy7

    Really takes me back, read this one when I was just a kid. Such a sad, lonely feeling it gives me. Missing autumn leaves and spring flowers, and that wheel keeps on turning, no matter what. Hits you in the feels, you know?