George Gordon Noel Byron

There comes
For ever something between us and what
We deem our happiness.

There comes
For ever something between us and what
We deem our happiness.

Here's a sigh to those who love me,
And a smile to those who hate;
And whatever read more

Here's a sigh to those who love me,
And a smile to those who hate;
And whatever sky's above me,
Here's a heart for every fate.

I am the very slave of circumstance
And impulse--borne away with every breath.

I am the very slave of circumstance
And impulse--borne away with every breath.

As winds come whispering lightly from the West,
Kissing, not ruffling, the blue deep's serene.

As winds come whispering lightly from the West,
Kissing, not ruffling, the blue deep's serene.

What is the end of Fame? 'tis but to fill
A certain portion of uncertain paper:
Some read more

What is the end of Fame? 'tis but to fill
A certain portion of uncertain paper:
Some liken it to climbing up a hill,
Whose summit, like all hills, is lost in vapour:
For this men write, speak, preach, and heroes kill,
And bards burn what they call their "midnight taper,"
To have, when the original is dust,
A name, a wretched picture, and worse bust.