George Gordon Noel Byron

Yet smelt roast meat, beheld a huge fire shine,
And cooks in motion with their clean arms bared.

Yet smelt roast meat, beheld a huge fire shine,
And cooks in motion with their clean arms bared.

What exile from himself can flee?
To zones, though more and more remote,
Still, still pursues, where'er read more

What exile from himself can flee?
To zones, though more and more remote,
Still, still pursues, where'er I be,
The blight of life--the demon Thought.

And history with all her volumes vast,
Hath but one page.

And history with all her volumes vast,
Hath but one page.

Till taught by pain,
Men really know not what good water's worth;
If you had been in read more

Till taught by pain,
Men really know not what good water's worth;
If you had been in Turkey or in Spain,
Or with a famish'd boat's-crew had your berth,
Or in the desert heard the camel's bell,
You'd wish yourself where Truth is--in a well.

Just as old age is creeping on space,
And clouds come o'er the sunset of our day,
read more

Just as old age is creeping on space,
And clouds come o'er the sunset of our day,
They kindly leave us, though not quite alone,
But in good company--the gout or stone.