There may be chaos still around the world
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.
This poem is in the public domain.
George Santayana was a philosopher, critic, essayist, novelist, and poet. born Jorge Agustín Nicolás Ruiz de Santayana y Borrás on December 16, 1863 in Madrid, was a philosopher, critic, poet, and novelist. He was the author of many books, including The Sense of Beauty: Being the Outlines of Aesthetic Theory (Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1896) and Three Philosophical Poets: Lucretius, Dante And Goethe (Harvard University, 1910).
He received his PhD from Harvard, where he taught Conrad Aiken, T. S. Eliot, Robert Frost, and Wallace Stevens. In 1912, Santayana moved to Europe and never returned to the United States. He died in 1952. He died on September 26, 1952.
Date Published: 1906-01-01
Source URL: https://poets.org/poem/there-may-be-chaos-still-around-world