Sunday, April 24, 2011

Sunday Morning Peace

by Percy B Shelley

Peace, peace! He is not dead, he doth not sleep--
He hath awakened from the dream of life--
'Tis we, who, lost in stormy visons, keep
With phantoms an uprofitable strife . . .

He has outsoared the shadow of our night;
Envy and calumny, and hate and pain,
And that unrest which men miscall delight,
Can touch him not, and torture not again . . .

The One remains, the many change and pass;
Heaven's light forever shines, Earth's shadows fly;
Life, like a dome of any-colored glas,
Stains the white radiance of eternity.


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