Alastor; or, The Spirit of Solitude
I
The sun is setting, the moon doth glow, And the dew is reclining on flower beds: The becoming of nights that cooled the sparrows, Crowned to the breath of the sun to soothe.
II
When dreams fill the ups and down of a void, Like silent stars that drift through the night, An echoing memory breaks my heart alone, When the dew drops in joy slow starlit bright!
III
Like a sail of calm on the braving sea That opens the gates, the skies won’t be free. Dread the sound of throbbing hearts, And music wends beyond the morning’s chart!
- Percy Bysshe Shelley