George Gordon Noel Byron

The dome of Thought, the palace of the Soul.

The dome of Thought, the palace of the Soul.

I can't but say it is an awkward sight
To see one's native land receding through
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I can't but say it is an awkward sight
To see one's native land receding through
The growing waters; it unmans one quite,
Especially when life is rather new.

Parent of golden dreams, Romance!
Auspicious queen of childish joys,
Who lead'st along, in airy dance,
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Parent of golden dreams, Romance!
Auspicious queen of childish joys,
Who lead'st along, in airy dance,
Thy votive train of girls and boys.

Mark! where his carnage and his conquests cease,
He makes a solitude and calls it--peace!

Mark! where his carnage and his conquests cease,
He makes a solitude and calls it--peace!

Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow,
Such as Creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now.

Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow,
Such as Creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now.