I could lie down like a tired child, And weep away the life of care Which I have borne, and yet must bear? Till death like sleep might steal on me And I might feel in the warm air My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony.
Percy Bysshe ShelleyAbout author
- Author's profession: Poet
- Nationality: english
- Born: August 4, 1792
- Died: July 8, 1822
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