George Gordon Noel Byron

And if I laugh at any mortal thing,
'Tis that I may not weep.

And if I laugh at any mortal thing,
'Tis that I may not weep.

Sleep hath its own world,
A boundary between the things misnamed
Death and existence: Sleep hath its read more

Sleep hath its own world,
A boundary between the things misnamed
Death and existence: Sleep hath its own world,
And a wide realm of wild reality,
And dreams in their development have breath,
And tears and tortures, and the touch of joy.

The nympholepsy of some fond despair.

The nympholepsy of some fond despair.

A mighty mass of brick, and smoke, and shipping,
Dirty and dusty, but as wide as eye
read more

A mighty mass of brick, and smoke, and shipping,
Dirty and dusty, but as wide as eye
Could reach, with here and there a sail just skipping
In sight, then lost amidst the forestry
Of masts; a wilderness of steeples peeping
On tiptoe through their sea-coal canopy;
A huge, dun cupola, like a foolscap crown
On a fool's head--and there is London Town.

'Tis sweet to listen as the night winds creep
From leaf to leaf; 'tis sweet to view on high
read more

'Tis sweet to listen as the night winds creep
From leaf to leaf; 'tis sweet to view on high
The rainbow, based on ocean, span the sky.