George Gordon Noel Byron

I tell him, if a clergyman, he lies!
If captains the remark, or critics, make,
Why they read more

I tell him, if a clergyman, he lies!
If captains the remark, or critics, make,
Why they lie also--under a mistake.

To sanction Vice, and hunt Decorum down.

To sanction Vice, and hunt Decorum down.

When age chills the blood, when our pleasures are past--
For years fleet away with the wings of the read more

When age chills the blood, when our pleasures are past--
For years fleet away with the wings of the dove--
The dearest remembrance will still be the last,
Our sweetest memorial the first kiss of love.

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.

Such is your cold coquette, who can't say "No,"
And won't say "Yes," and keeps you on and off-ing
read more

Such is your cold coquette, who can't say "No,"
And won't say "Yes," and keeps you on and off-ing
On a lee-shore, till it begins to blow,
Then sees your heart wreck'd, with an inward scoffing.