And like a dying lady a poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
And like a dying lady, lean and pale, Who totters forth, wrapp'd 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.
And like a dying lady - a poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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