by Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792 - 1822)

The warm sun is failing, the bleak wind...
Language: English 
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 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.

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Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):

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Other available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):

  • CZE Czech (Čeština) (Jaroslav Vrchlický) , "Jeseň (Žalozpěv)", Prague, J. Otto, first published 1901


Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

This text was added to the website: 2005-02-22
Line count: 22
Word count: 131