TO THE MOON

Art thou pale for weariness Of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth, Wandering companionless Among the stars that have a different birth, And ever changing, like a Joyless eye That finds no object worth its constancy?

By Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822)


I totally ripped this poem off from my good friend Jaimee, sorry Jaimme it just fit.

And i know its not that great of a blip not much originality in it but .....so what I took it.

Thanks for looking by the way