Shelley at Spezia

By George Sterling

Within that peacelessness we call the sea
    Abides a peace. O deep, tremendous bed,
    Accept me, least of all the weary dead,
Where midnight merges to infinity!
Bitter and chill has been life's gift to me.
    Now let the suns go dark within this head,
    And Lethe tower and thunder and be fled,
And I at last be nothing, and go free!

All shall be dust beneath the feet of Change,
And the god's smile, inexorably strange,
    Shall be the world's Medusa, as of old,
        And I be but an echo in the Past—
        Unconscious of that age, so sure at last,
    Whose ruby-litten heavens await the Cold.

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