To hearts which near each other move From evening close to morning light,The night is good; because, my love,They never say good-night.
Percy Bysshe ShelleyJanuary gray is here, like a sexton by her grave; February bears the bier, march with grief doth howl and rave, and April weeps -- but, O ye hours! Follow with May's fairest flowers.
Percy Bysshe ShelleyO weep for Adonis - He is dead." "Peace. He is not dead he doth not sleep - he hath wakened from the dream of life
Percy Bysshe ShelleyThe warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing, The bare boughs are sighing, the pale flowers are dying, And the Year On the earth her death-bed, in a shroud of leaves dead, Is lying. . . .
Percy Bysshe Shelley