George Gordon Noel Byron

How lovely he appears! his little cheeks
In their pure incarnation, vying with
The rose leaves strewn read more

How lovely he appears! his little cheeks
In their pure incarnation, vying with
The rose leaves strewn beneath them.
And his lips, too,
How beautifully parted! No; you shall not
Kiss him; at least not now; he will wake soon--
His hour of midday rest is nearly over.

'Twas blow for blow, disputing inch by inch,
For one would not retreat, nor t'other flinch.

'Twas blow for blow, disputing inch by inch,
For one would not retreat, nor t'other flinch.

Such hath it been--shall be--beneath the sun
The many still must labour for the one.

Such hath it been--shall be--beneath the sun
The many still must labour for the one.

Wives in their husbands' absences grow subtler,
And daughters sometimes run off with the butler.

Wives in their husbands' absences grow subtler,
And daughters sometimes run off with the butler.

My heart is feminine, nor can forget--
To all, except one image, madly blind;
So shakes the read more

My heart is feminine, nor can forget--
To all, except one image, madly blind;
So shakes the needle, and so stands the pole,
As vibrates my fond heart to my fix'd soul.