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. Notes: _15 May 1816; Can Lodore, Chapter 49, 1835 (Mrs. Shelley). _16 Nought May Endure But 1816; Nor Aught Endure Save Lodore, Chapter 49, 1835 (Mrs. Shelley).