George Gordon Noel Byron

But words are things, and a small drop of ink,
Falling, like dew, upon a thought produces
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But words are things, and a small drop of ink,
Falling, like dew, upon a thought produces
That which makes thousands, perhaps millions think.

I prefer the most unfair peace to the most righteous war.
[Lat., Iniquissimam pacem justissimo bello antefero.]

I prefer the most unfair peace to the most righteous war.
[Lat., Iniquissimam pacem justissimo bello antefero.]

Her glossy hair was cluster'd o'er a brow
Bright with intelligence, and fair and smooth;
Her eyebrow's read more

Her glossy hair was cluster'd o'er a brow
Bright with intelligence, and fair and smooth;
Her eyebrow's shape was like the aerial bow,
Her cheek all purple with the beam of youth,
Mounting, at times, to a transparent glow,
As if her veins ran lightning.

Maid of Athens, ere we part,
Give, oh, give me back my heart!

Maid of Athens, ere we part,
Give, oh, give me back my heart!

And I have loved them, Ocean! and my joy
Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be
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And I have loved them, Ocean! and my joy
Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be
Borne, like shy bubbles, onward; from a boy
I wanton'd with thy breakers.
. . . .
And laid my hand upon thy mane--as I do here.