George Gordon Noel Byron

The stars are forth, the moon above the tops
Of the snow-shining mountains--Beautiful!
I linger yet with read more

The stars are forth, the moon above the tops
Of the snow-shining mountains--Beautiful!
I linger yet with Nature, for the night
Hath been to me a more familiar face
Than that of man; and in her starry shade
Of dim and solitary loveliness
I learn'd the language of another world.

Hope, withering, fled--and Mercy sighed farewell.

Hope, withering, fled--and Mercy sighed farewell.

Dear authors! suit your topics to your strength,
And ponder well your subject, and its length;
Nor read more

Dear authors! suit your topics to your strength,
And ponder well your subject, and its length;
Nor lift your lad, before you're quite aware
What weight your shoulders will, or will not, bear.

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.

Whatsoe'er thy birth,
Thou wert a beautiful thought and softly bodied forth.

Whatsoe'er thy birth,
Thou wert a beautiful thought and softly bodied forth.