Mutability

November 23, 2006

Wolf Kettler


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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 not lost for ever:

Or like forgotten lyres, whose dissonant strings
Give various response to each varying blast
To whose frail frame no second motion bring
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.

 

Percy Bysshe Shelley

 

 

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