Quotation by Percy Bysshe Shelley

He has outsoared the shadow of our night;
Envy and calumny and hate and pain,
And that unrest which men miscall delight,
Can touch him not and torture not again;
From the contagion of the world's slow stain
He is secure, and now can never mourn
A heart grown cold, a head grown grey in vain.
Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792–1822), British poet. Adonais, st. 40 (1821).

Written for poet John Keats, died aged 25.
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