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Слушать(AI)Mutability
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.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Percy Bysshe Shelley (/bɪʃ/ (About this soundlisten) BISH;[1][2] 4 August 1792 – 8 July 1822) was one of the major English Romantic poets, widel
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