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.