George Gordon Noel Byron

Gone--glimmering through the dream of things that were.

Gone--glimmering through the dream of things that were.

Music arose with its voluptuous swell,
Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again,
And all read more

Music arose with its voluptuous swell,
Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again,
And all went merry as a marriage bell.

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.

The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave,
The Moon, their Mistress, had expired before;
read more

The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave,
The Moon, their Mistress, had expired before;
The winds were wither'd in the stagnant air,
And the clouds perish'd; darkness had no need
Of aid from them--she was the Universe.

The castled crag of Drachenfels,
Frowns o'er the wide and winding Rhine,
Whose breast of waters broadly read more

The castled crag of Drachenfels,
Frowns o'er the wide and winding Rhine,
Whose breast of waters broadly swells
Between the banks which bear the vine,
And hills all rich with blossom'd trees,
And fields which promise corn and wine,
And scatter'd cities crowning these,
Whose far white walls along them shine.