---

Percy Bysshe Shelley - Mutability
Work rating: Low

We are as clouds that veil the midnight moon; 
How restlessly they speed, and gleam, and quiver, 
Streaking the darkness radiantly! — yet soon 
Night closes round, and they are lost forever: 

Or like forgotten lyres, whose dissonant strings 
Give various response to each varying blast, 
To whose frail frame no second motion brings 
One mood or modulation like the last. 

We rest.-- A dream has power to poison sleep; 
We rise.-- One wandering thought pollutes the day; 
We feel, conceive or reason, laugh or weep; 
Embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away: 

It is the same! — For, be it joy or sorrow, 
The path of its departure still is free: 
Man`s yesterday may ne`er be like his morrow; 
Nought may endure but Mutability.
Source
The script ran 0.001 seconds.