The
flower that smiles today
Tomorrow dies;
All that we wish to stay
Tempts and then flies.
What is this world's delight?
Lightning that mocks the
night,
Brief even as bright.
Virtue, how frail it is!
Friendship, how rare!
Love, how it sells poor bliss
For proud despair!
But we, though soon they fall,
Survive their joy, and all
Which ours we call.
Whilst skies are blue and bright,
Whilst flowers are gay,
Whilst eyes that change ere night
Make glad the day;
Whilst yet the calm hours creep,
Dream thou-and from thy sleep
Then wake to weep.
- Percy Bysshe Shelley
This poem was first published by Shelley's wife in 1824, two years after her husband's death, in the collection, Posthumous Poems. Another poem by Shelley, published with Alastor in 1816, bears the same title.