There may be chaos still around the world, This little world that in my thinking lies; For mine own bosom is the paradise Where all my life's fair visions are unfurled. Within my nature's shell I slumber curled, Unmindful of the changing outer skies, Where now, perchance, some new-born Eros flies, Or some old Cronos from his throne is hurled. I heed them not; or if the subtle night Haunt me with deities I never saw, I soon mine eyelid's drowsy curtain draw To hide their myriad faces from my sight. They threat in vain; the whirlwind cannot awe A happy snow-flake dancing in the flaw. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE TURNSTILE by WILLIAM BARNES DON JUAN: DEDICATION [OR, INVOCATION] by GEORGE GORDON BYRON AN EPITAPH ON M.H. by CHARLES COTTON WINTER WITH THE GULF STREAM by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS SOLITUDE by ELLA WHEELER WILCOX EPITAPH by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES |