George Gordon Noel Byron

I have a passion for the name of "Mary,"
For once it was a magic sound to me,
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I have a passion for the name of "Mary,"
For once it was a magic sound to me,
And still it half calls up the realms of fairy,
Where I beheld what never was to be.

Be thou the rainbow to the storms of life!
The evening beam that smiles the clouds away,
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Be thou the rainbow to the storms of life!
The evening beam that smiles the clouds away,
And tints to-morrow with prophetic ray!

The stars are forth, the moon above the tops
Of the snow-shining mountains--Beautiful!
I linger yet with read more

The stars are forth, the moon above the tops
Of the snow-shining mountains--Beautiful!
I linger yet with Nature, for the night
Hath been to me a more familiar face
Than that of man; and in her starry shade
Of dim and solitary loveliness
I learn'd the language of another world.

That famish'd people must be slowly nurst,
And fed by spoonfuls, else they always burst.

That famish'd people must be slowly nurst,
And fed by spoonfuls, else they always burst.

The light of love, the purity of grace,
The mind, the Music breathing from her face,
The read more

The light of love, the purity of grace,
The mind, the Music breathing from her face,
The heart whose softness harmonized the whole,
And, oh! the eye was in itself a Soul!