There may be chaos still around the world, <br />This little world that in my thinking lies; <br />For mine own bosom is the paradise <br />Where all my life's fair visions are unfurled. <br />Within my nature's shell I slumber curled, <br />Unmindful of the changing outer skies, <br />Where now, perchance, some new-born Eros flies, <br />Or some old Cronos from his throne is hurled. <br />I heed them not; or if the subtle night <br />Haunt me with deities I never saw, <br />I soon mine eyelid's drowsy curtain draw <br />To hide their myriad faces from my sight. <br />They threat in vain; the whirlwind cannot awe <br />A happy snow-flake dancing in the flaw.<br /><br />George Santayana<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/there-may-be-chaos-still-around-the-world/
