George Gordon Noel Byron ( 10 of 329 )
Let us have wine and woman, mirth and laughter,
Sermons and soda-water the day after.
Let us have wine and woman, mirth and laughter,
Sermons and soda-water the day after.
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.
Hot from the hands promiscuously applied,
Round the slight waist, or down the glowing side.
Hot from the hands promiscuously applied,
Round the slight waist, or down the glowing side.
Mark! where his carnage and his conquests cease,
He makes a solitude and calls it--peace!
Mark! where his carnage and his conquests cease,
He makes a solitude and calls it--peace!
My heart is feminine, nor can forget--
To all, except one image, madly blind;
So shakes the read more
My heart is feminine, nor can forget--
To all, except one image, madly blind;
So shakes the needle, and so stands the pole,
As vibrates my fond heart to my fix'd soul.
And nearer as they came, a genial savour
Of certain stews, and roast-meats, and pilaus.
Things which read more
And nearer as they came, a genial savour
Of certain stews, and roast-meats, and pilaus.
Things which in hungry mortals' eyes find favour.
Oh that the desert were my dwelling-place!
Oh that the desert were my dwelling-place!
Kathleen Mavourneen, the gray dawn is breaking,
The horn of the hunter is heard on the hill,
read more
Kathleen Mavourneen, the gray dawn is breaking,
The horn of the hunter is heard on the hill,
The lark from her light wing the bright dew is shaking--
Kathleen Mavourneen, what, slumbering, still?
Oh hast thou forgotten how soon we must sever?
Oh hast thou forgotten this day we must part?
It may be for years and it may be forever;
Oh why art thou silent, thou voice of my heart?
But yet she listen'd--'tis enough--
Who listens once will listen twice;
Her heart, be sure, is not read more
But yet she listen'd--'tis enough--
Who listens once will listen twice;
Her heart, be sure, is not of ice,
And one refusal no rebuff.
I am the very slave of circumstance
And impulse--borne away with every breath.
I am the very slave of circumstance
And impulse--borne away with every breath.
