George Gordon Noel Byron

All Heaven and Earth are still, though not in sleep,
But breathless, as we grow when feeling most.

All Heaven and Earth are still, though not in sleep,
But breathless, as we grow when feeling most.

Oh! nature's noblest gift--my gray-goose quill!
Slave of my thoughts, obedient to my will,
Torn from thy read more

Oh! nature's noblest gift--my gray-goose quill!
Slave of my thoughts, obedient to my will,
Torn from thy parent-bird to form a pen,
That might instrument of little men!

The mellow autumn came, and with it came
The promised party, to enjoy its sweets.
The corn read more

The mellow autumn came, and with it came
The promised party, to enjoy its sweets.
The corn is cut, the manor full of game;
The pointer ranges, and the sportsman beats
In russet jacket;--lynx-like is his aim;
Full grows his bag, and wonderful his feats.
An, nutbrown partridges! An, brilliant pheasants!
And ah, ye poachers!--'Tis no sport for peasants.

Smiles form the channels of a future tear.

Smiles form the channels of a future tear.

The nympholepsy of some fond despair.

The nympholepsy of some fond despair.