There May Be Chaos Still Around The World

There may be Chaos still around the World by George Santayana

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.