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.

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

Comments (18)

Pour me another glass of your words, like fine delicious wine! !
i shall give up drinking to drink in your perfume and to live for you and love you and kiss you with intense desire and passion........ tony
One of the best poems I've read so far. Keep it up!
A lovely poem Uriah. Very clever with an apt title as well.
Nice work Uriah, the call of a siren that prevents men from drowning.
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