Autumn: a Dirge by Percy Bysshe Shelley, Read for LibriVox by Sajad Rahmani
For the audio file check the YouTube link below or here:
http://www.archive.org/download/short_poetry_112_1210_librivox/spc112_autumnadirge_shelley_sr_64kb.mp3
For the audio file check the YouTube link below or here:
http://www.archive.org/download/short_poetry_112_1210_librivox/spc112_autumnadirge_shelley_sr_64kb.mp3
My reading of the poem on YouTube and Librivox
I.
The 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.
Come, Months, come away,
From November to May,
In your saddest array;
Follow the bier
Of the dead cold Year,
And like dim shadows watch by her sepulchre.
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.
Come, Months, come away,
From November to May,
In your saddest array;
Follow the bier
Of the dead cold Year,
And like dim shadows watch by her sepulchre.
II.
The chill rain is falling, the nipped worm is crawling,
The rivers are swelling, the thunder is knelling
For the Year;
The blithe swallows are flown, and the lizards each gone
To his dwelling;
Come, Months, come away;
Put on white, black, and gray;
Let your light sisters play --
Ye, follow the bier
Of the dead cold Year,
And make her grave green with tear on tear.
The rivers are swelling, the thunder is knelling
For the Year;
The blithe swallows are flown, and the lizards each gone
To his dwelling;
Come, Months, come away;
Put on white, black, and gray;
Let your light sisters play --
Ye, follow the bier
Of the dead cold Year,
And make her grave green with tear on tear.
Published 1824.
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