George Gordon Noel Byron

And if I laugh at any mortal thing,
'Tis that I may not weep.

And if I laugh at any mortal thing,
'Tis that I may not weep.

Where the light wings of Zephyr, oppress'd with perfume,
Wax faint o'er the gardens of Gul in her bloom.

Where the light wings of Zephyr, oppress'd with perfume,
Wax faint o'er the gardens of Gul in her bloom.

The thorns which I have reap'd are of the tree
I planted--they have torn me--and I bleed!
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The thorns which I have reap'd are of the tree
I planted--they have torn me--and I bleed!
I should have known what fruit would spring from such a seed.

Oh! too convincing--dangerously dear--
In woman's eye the unanswerable tear!
That weapon of her weakness she can read more

Oh! too convincing--dangerously dear--
In woman's eye the unanswerable tear!
That weapon of her weakness she can wield,
To save, subdue--at once her spear and shield.

Weren't the last drop in the well,
As I gasp'd upon the brink,
Ere my fainting spirit read more

Weren't the last drop in the well,
As I gasp'd upon the brink,
Ere my fainting spirit fell,
'Tis to thee that I would drink.