George Gordon Noel Byron

And I have loved them, Ocean! and my joy
Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be
read more

And I have loved them, Ocean! and my joy
Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be
Borne, like shy bubbles, onward; from a boy
I wanton'd with thy breakers.
. . . .
And laid my hand upon thy mane--as I do here.

Venice once was dear,
The pleasant place of all festivity,
The revel of the earth, the masque read more

Venice once was dear,
The pleasant place of all festivity,
The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy.

And gazed around them to the left and right
With the prophetic eye of appetite.

And gazed around them to the left and right
With the prophetic eye of appetite.

Sweet is old wine in bottles, ale in barrels.

Sweet is old wine in bottles, ale in barrels.

Her glossy hair was cluster'd o'er a brow
Bright with intelligence, and fair and smooth;
Her eyebrow's read more

Her glossy hair was cluster'd o'er a brow
Bright with intelligence, and fair and smooth;
Her eyebrow's shape was like the aerial bow,
Her cheek all purple with the beam of youth,
Mounting, at times, to a transparent glow,
As if her veins ran lightning.