George Gordon Noel Byron

I love the language, that soft bastard Latin,
Which melts like kisses from a female mouth.

I love the language, that soft bastard Latin,
Which melts like kisses from a female mouth.

We two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted
To sever for years.

We two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted
To sever for years.

There was no great disparity of years,
Though much in temper; but they never clash'd,
They moved read more

There was no great disparity of years,
Though much in temper; but they never clash'd,
They moved like stars united in their spheres,
Or like the Rhone by Leman's waters wash'd,
Where mingled and yet separate appears
The river from the lake, all bluely dash'd
Through the serene and placid glassy deep,
Which fain would lull its river-child to sleep.

An infant when it gazes on a light,
A child the moment when it drains the breast,
read more

An infant when it gazes on a light,
A child the moment when it drains the breast,
A devotee when soars the Host in sight,
An Arab with a stranger for a guest,
A sailor when the prize has struck in fight,
A miser filling his most hoarded chest,
Feel rapture; but not such true joy are reaping
As they who watch o'er what they love while sleeping.

And Doubt and Discord step 'twixt thine and thee.

And Doubt and Discord step 'twixt thine and thee.