There grows the wild ash; and a time-stricken willow Looks chidingly down on the mirth of the billow, As, like some gay child that sad monitor scorning, It lightly laughs back to the laugh of the morning.
A pard-like Spirit, beautiful and swift A love in desolation masked;a Power Girt round with weakness;it can scarce uplift The weight of the superincumbent hour; It is a dying lamp, a falling shower, A breaking billow;even whilst we speak Is it not broken? Shelley
Webster's New World Dictionary of Quotations Copyright © 2010 by Chambers Harrap Publishers Ltd. All rights reserved. Published by Wiley, Hoboken, NJ. Used by arrangement with John Wiley & Sons, Inc.
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