George Gordon Noel Byron

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There read more

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society where none intrudes
By the deep Sea, and music in its roar.

And dreams in their development have breath,
And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy;
They read more

And dreams in their development have breath,
And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy;
They have a weight upon our waking thoughts,
They take a weight from off our waking toils,
They do divide our being.

And whispering, "I will ne'er consent," consented.

And whispering, "I will ne'er consent," consented.

So well she acted all and every part
By turns--with that vivacious versatility,
Which many people take read more

So well she acted all and every part
By turns--with that vivacious versatility,
Which many people take for want of heart.
They err--'tis merely what is call'd mobility,
A thing of temperament and not of art,
Though seeming so, from its supposed facility;
And false--though true; for surely they're sincerest
Who are strongly acted on by what is nearest.

Yet how much less it were to gain,
Though thou hast left me free,
The loveliest things read more

Yet how much less it were to gain,
Though thou hast left me free,
The loveliest things that still remain,
Than thus remember thee.