.
.
Mutability (Publ. 1816)
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 for ever;
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.
<......................>