Poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley

* * *

The fitful alternations of the rain,
When the chill wind, languid as with pain
Of its own heavy moisture, here and there
Drives through the gray and beamless atmosphere. 

1. I Would Not Be A King
2. From the Arabic, an Imitation
3. Wine Of The Fairies
4. To Mary
5. The Spectral Horseman

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