George Gordon Noel Byron

But 'midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of men,
To hear, to see, to feel, and to possess,
read more

But 'midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of men,
To hear, to see, to feel, and to possess,
And roam along, the world's tired denizen,
With none who bless us, none whom we can bless.

Solitary trees, if they grow at all, grow strong.

Solitary trees, if they grow at all, grow strong.

A would-be satirist, a hired buffoon,
A monthly scribbler of some low lampoon,
Condemn'd to drudge, the read more

A would-be satirist, a hired buffoon,
A monthly scribbler of some low lampoon,
Condemn'd to drudge, the meanest of the mean,
And furbish falsehoods for a magazine.

Romances paint at full length people's wooings,
But only give a bust of marriages:
For no one read more

Romances paint at full length people's wooings,
But only give a bust of marriages:
For no one cares for matrimonial cooings.
There's nothing wrong in a connubial kiss.
Think you, if Laura had been Petrarch's wife,
He would have written sonnets all his life?

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.