George Gordon Noel Byron

A thirst for gold,
The beggar's vice, which can but overwhelm
The meanest hearts.

A thirst for gold,
The beggar's vice, which can but overwhelm
The meanest hearts.

A lovely being, scarcely formed or moulded,
A rose with all its sweetest leaves yet folded.

A lovely being, scarcely formed or moulded,
A rose with all its sweetest leaves yet folded.

There was a sound of revelry by night,
And Belgium's capital had gather'd then
Her Beauty and read more

There was a sound of revelry by night,
And Belgium's capital had gather'd then
Her Beauty and her Chivalry, and bright
The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men.

O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea,
Our thoughts as boundless, and our souls as free,
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O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea,
Our thoughts as boundless, and our souls as free,
Far as the breeze can bear, the billows foam,
Survey our empire, and behold our home!

Gone--glimmering through the dream of things that were.

Gone--glimmering through the dream of things that were.