Edward George Earle Lytton Bulwer

Hark, the world so loud,
And they, the movers of the world, so still!

Hark, the world so loud,
And they, the movers of the world, so still!

Alone!--That worn-out word,
So idly spoken, and so coldly heard;
Yet all that poets sing, and grief read more

Alone!--That worn-out word,
So idly spoken, and so coldly heard;
Yet all that poets sing, and grief hath known,
Of hope laid waste, knells in that word--Alone!

We call some books immortal! Do they live?
If so, believe me, Time hath made them pure.
read more

We call some books immortal! Do they live?
If so, believe me, Time hath made them pure.
In Books, the veriest wicked rest in peace.

There are certain events which to each man's life are as comets
to the earth, seemingly strange and erratic read more

There are certain events which to each man's life are as comets
to the earth, seemingly strange and erratic portents; distinct
from the ordinary lights which guide our course and mark our
seasons, yet true to their own laws, potent in their own
influences.

When stars are in the quiet skies,
Then most I pine for thee;
Bend on me then read more

When stars are in the quiet skies,
Then most I pine for thee;
Bend on me then thy tender eyes,
As stars look on the sea.