George Gordon Noel Byron ( 10 of 329 )
How lovely he appears! his little cheeks
In their pure incarnation, vying with
The rose leaves strewn read more
How lovely he appears! his little cheeks
In their pure incarnation, vying with
The rose leaves strewn beneath them.
And his lips, too,
How beautifully parted! No; you shall not
Kiss him; at least not now; he will wake soon--
His hour of midday rest is nearly over.
Which cheers the sad, revives the old, inspires
The young, makes Weariness forget his toil,
And Fear read more
Which cheers the sad, revives the old, inspires
The young, makes Weariness forget his toil,
And Fear her danger; opens a new world
When this, the present, palls.
Gone--glimmering through the dream of things that were.
Gone--glimmering through the dream of things that were.
'Tis strange the mind, that very fiery particle,
Should let itself be snuff'd out by an article.
'Tis strange the mind, that very fiery particle,
Should let itself be snuff'd out by an article.
There is no future pang
Can deal that justice on the self condemn'd
He deals on his read more
There is no future pang
Can deal that justice on the self condemn'd
He deals on his own soul.
Here's a sigh to those who love me,
And a smile to those who hate;
And whatever read more
Here's a sigh to those who love me,
And a smile to those who hate;
And whatever sky's above me,
Here's a heart for every fate.
And they were canopied by the blue sky,
So cloudless, clear, and purely beautiful,
That God alone read more
And they were canopied by the blue sky,
So cloudless, clear, and purely beautiful,
That God alone was to be seen in Heaven.
Man, being reasonable, must get drunk;
The best of life is but intoxication:
Glory, the grape, love, read more
Man, being reasonable, must get drunk;
The best of life is but intoxication:
Glory, the grape, love, gold, in these are sunk
The hopes of all men and of every nation;
Without their sap, how branchless were the trunk
Of life's strange tree, so fruitful on occasion:
But to return,--Get very drunk; and when
You wake with headache, you shall see what then.
"Farewell!"
For in that word--that fatal word--howe'er
We promise--hope--believe--there breathes despair.
"Farewell!"
For in that word--that fatal word--howe'er
We promise--hope--believe--there breathes despair.
Cervantes smiled Spain's chivalry away;
A single laugh demolished the right arm
Of his own country;--seldom since read more
Cervantes smiled Spain's chivalry away;
A single laugh demolished the right arm
Of his own country;--seldom since that day
Has Spain had heroes.