George Gordon Noel Byron

A mere court butterfly,
That flutters in the pageant of a monarch.

A mere court butterfly,
That flutters in the pageant of a monarch.

Some hoisted out the boats, and there was one
That begged Pedrillo for an absolution
Who told read more

Some hoisted out the boats, and there was one
That begged Pedrillo for an absolution
Who told him to be damn'd,--in his confusion.

And one by one in turn, some grand mistake
Casts off its bright skin yearly like the snake.

And one by one in turn, some grand mistake
Casts off its bright skin yearly like the snake.

'Tis strange the mind, that very fiery particle,
Should let itself be snuff'd out by an article.

'Tis strange the mind, that very fiery particle,
Should let itself be snuff'd out by an article.

Sorrow preys upon
Its solitude, and nothing more diverts it
From its sad visions of the other read more

Sorrow preys upon
Its solitude, and nothing more diverts it
From its sad visions of the other world
Than calling it at moments back to this.
The busy have no time for tears.