George Gordon Noel Byron

Solitary trees, if they grow at all, grow strong.

Solitary trees, if they grow at all, grow strong.

Mont Blanc is the monarch of mountains;
They crown'd him long ago
On a throne of rocks, read more

Mont Blanc is the monarch of mountains;
They crown'd him long ago
On a throne of rocks, in a robe of clouds,
With a diadem of snow.

When health, affrighted, spreads her rosy wing,
And flies with every changing gale of spring.

When health, affrighted, spreads her rosy wing,
And flies with every changing gale of spring.

Not much he kens, I ween, of woman's breast,
Who thinks that wanton thing is won by sighs.

Not much he kens, I ween, of woman's breast,
Who thinks that wanton thing is won by sighs.

What deep wounds ever closed without a scar?
The hearts bleed longest, and but heal to wear
read more

What deep wounds ever closed without a scar?
The hearts bleed longest, and but heal to wear
That which disfigures it.