Indie Scribe Magazine September 2014 | Page 40

A widow bird sate mourning for her Love

Upon a wintry bough;

The frozen wind crept on above,

The freezing stream below.

There was no leaf upon the forest bare.

No flower upon the ground,

And little motion in the air

Except the mill-wheel’s sound.

P.B. Shelley.

CCLXV p285

"Clean Blue Sky Winter Background" by thaikrit