George Gordon Noel Byron

But at sixteen the conscience rarely gnaws
So much, as when we call our old debts in
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But at sixteen the conscience rarely gnaws
So much, as when we call our old debts in
At sixty years, and draw the accounts of evil,
And find a deuced balance with the devil.

What is the worst of woes that wait on age?
What stamps the wrinkle deeper on the brow?
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What is the worst of woes that wait on age?
What stamps the wrinkle deeper on the brow?
To view each love one blotted from life's page,
And be alone on earth as I am now.

Her years
Were ripe, they might make six-and-twenty springs;
But there are forms which Time to touch read more

Her years
Were ripe, they might make six-and-twenty springs;
But there are forms which Time to touch forbears.
And turns aside his scythe to vulgar things.

Like to the apples on the Dead Sea's shore,
All ashes to the taste.

Like to the apples on the Dead Sea's shore,
All ashes to the taste.

Venice once was dear,
The pleasant place of all festivity,
The revel of the earth, the masque read more

Venice once was dear,
The pleasant place of all festivity,
The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy.