"Peace, peace!
She is not dead, she does not sleep
She has awakened from the dream of life
'Tis we who, lost in stormy visions,
Keep with phantoms an unprofitable strife,
And in mad trance strike with our spirit's knife
Invulnerable nothings.
We decay like corpses in a charnel;
Fear and grief convulse us and consume us day by day
And cold hopes swarm like worms within our living clay."
Quoted and modified from Shelley's Adonais.
