George Gordon Noel Byron ( 10 of 329 )
Be thou the rainbow to the storms of life!
The evening beam that smiles the clouds away,
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Be thou the rainbow to the storms of life!
The evening beam that smiles the clouds away,
And tints to-morrow with prophetic ray!
Nor ear can hear nor tongue can tell
The tortures of that inward hell!
Nor ear can hear nor tongue can tell
The tortures of that inward hell!
Born in the garret, in the kitchen bred.
Born in the garret, in the kitchen bred.
Just as old age is creeping on space,
And clouds come o'er the sunset of our day,
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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.
Folly loves the martyrdom of Fame.
Folly loves the martyrdom of Fame.
Among them, but not of them.
Among them, but not of them.
The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece!
Where burning Sappho loved and sung.
Where grew the read more
The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece!
Where burning Sappho loved and sung.
Where grew the arts of war and peace,--
Where Delos rose, and Phoebus sprung!
Eternal summer gilds them yet,
But all, except their sun, is set.
'Twas twilight, and the sunless day went down
Over the waste of waters; like a veil,
Which, read more
'Twas twilight, and the sunless day went down
Over the waste of waters; like a veil,
Which, if withdrawn, would but disclose the frown
Of one whose hate is mask'd but to assail.
Who track the steps of Glory to the grave.
Who track the steps of Glory to the grave.
Her years
Were ripe, they might make six-and-twenty springs;
But there are forms which Time to touch read more
Her years
Were ripe, they might make six-and-twenty springs;
But there are forms which Time to touch forbears.
And turns aside his scythe to vulgar things.
