George Gordon Noel Byron

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.

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

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

'Tis an old lesson; time approves it true,
And those who know it best, deplore it most;
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'Tis an old lesson; time approves it true,
And those who know it best, deplore it most;
When all is won that all desire to woo,
The paltry prize is hardly worth the cost.

Hope, withering, fled--and Mercy sighed farewell.

Hope, withering, fled--and Mercy sighed farewell.

A thousand hearts beat happily; and when
Music arose with its voluptuous swell,
Soft eyes look'd love read more

A thousand hearts beat happily; and when
Music arose with its voluptuous swell,
Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again,
And all went merry as a marriage bell.