George Gordon Noel Byron

But words are things, and a small drop of ink,
Falling, like dew, upon a thought produces
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But words are things, and a small drop of ink,
Falling, like dew, upon a thought produces
That which makes thousands, perhaps millions think.

A change came o'er the spirit of my dream.

A change came o'er the spirit of my dream.

. . . all who joy would win
Must share it.--Happiness was born a twin.

. . . all who joy would win
Must share it.--Happiness was born a twin.

Father of Light! great God of Heaven!
Hear'st thou the accents of despair?
Can guilt like man's read more

Father of Light! great God of Heaven!
Hear'st thou the accents of despair?
Can guilt like man's be e'er forgiven?
Can vice atone for crimes by prayer?

Most glorious night!
Thou wert not sent for slumber!

Most glorious night!
Thou wert not sent for slumber!