And like a dying lady, lean and pale, <br />Who totters forth, wrapped in a gauzy veil, <br />Out of her chamber, led by the insane <br />And feeble wanderings of her fading brain, <br />The moon arose up in the murky east, <br />A white and shapeless mass.<br /><br />Percy Bysshe Shelley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-waning-moon-2/
