Rough wind, that moanest loud Grief too sad for song; Wild wind, when sullen cloud Knells all the night long; Sad storm, whose tears are vain, Bare woods, whose branches strain, Deep caves and dreary main, -- Wail, for the world's wrong. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...POEMS ON THE SLAVE TRADE: 6 by ROBERT SOUTHEY AT BETHLEHEM: 1. THE CHILD by JOHN BANISTER TABB THE GIRLS' LOT by AGATHIAS SCHOLASTICUS NIGHT BY THE RIVER by MUHAMMAD AL-MU'TAMID II LYSISTRATA: HOW THE WOMEN WILL STOP WAR by ARISTOPHANES A SONNET. ON CYNTHIA SICK by PHILIP AYRES |