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My Mournful Heart

Submitted by DoTTiE on March 30, 2008

Category: English
Words: 1067 | Pages: 5
Views: 75
Popularity Rank: 112,645
Average Member Grade: N/A (Add a Comment / Grade this Paper)

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A Dirge (by Percey Shelley)

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!

There I stood, alone in the darkness, weeping. Surrounded by what used to be a mansion. No longer were there luxurious lounges to site upon. No longer were there hand woven carpets to lie on. Not even a fireplace to keep warm. The only thing that remained was the cold white marble floor, covered with dust. The walls were falling apart around me. I gazed up at the stairs. One thing still remained, a single rope. Tied tightly to the rusting balcony above. Swaying back and forth like the pendulum of a grandfather clock. Counting what little time I had left.

I rambled slowly towards the staircase. It wasn’t always like this. I was once rich and powerful a leader of lands. People begged me for money. People worshiped me, their leader. As I drew closer, thoughts galloped though my mind. As a child my parents gave me the proper education. I learned etiquette and manners. I used to play in the endless meadows of flowers. I can still smell their delightful fragrance. All day long I frolicked with friends. So young and innocent, with not a care in the world.

College was the hard time. You had to study hard to get what you wanted. There were crooked people who paid their way through schooling. My family was struggling to pay for my education. We were the lower end of the middle class. Struggling to stay alive and keep everything balanced. One day I decided to cut class and explore nearby streets. I treaded aimlessly, finding myself at the steps of a mansion, wishing one day I could live in such luxury. The front door was made from hard wood with...

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