George Gordon Noel Byron

It was the cooling hour, just when the rounded
Red sun sinks down behind the azure hill,
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It was the cooling hour, just when the rounded
Red sun sinks down behind the azure hill,
Which then seems as if the whole earth is bounded,
Circling all nature, hush'd, and dim, and still,
With the far mountain-crescent half surrounded
On one side, and the deep sea calm and chill
Upon the other, and the rosy sky
With one star sparkling through it like an eye.

I awoke one morning and found myself famous.

I awoke one morning and found myself famous.

Such is your cold coquette, who can't say "No,"
And won't say "Yes," and keeps you on and off-ing
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Such is your cold coquette, who can't say "No,"
And won't say "Yes," and keeps you on and off-ing
On a lee-shore, till it begins to blow,
Then sees your heart wreck'd, with an inward scoffing.

A thirst for gold,
The beggar's vice, which can but overwhelm
The meanest hearts.

A thirst for gold,
The beggar's vice, which can but overwhelm
The meanest hearts.

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