George Gordon Noel Byron ( 10 of 329 )
What deep wounds ever closed without a scar?
The hearts bleed longest, and but heal to wear
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What deep wounds ever closed without a scar?
The hearts bleed longest, and but heal to wear
That which disfigures it.
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.
There is a tide in the affairs of women
Which, taken at the flood, leads--God knows where.
There is a tide in the affairs of women
Which, taken at the flood, leads--God knows where.
When age chills the blood, when our pleasures are past--
For years fleet away with the wings of the read more
When age chills the blood, when our pleasures are past--
For years fleet away with the wings of the dove--
The dearest remembrance will still be the last,
Our sweetest memorial the first kiss of love.
Brave men were living before Agamemnon.
Brave men were living before Agamemnon.
Dead scandals form good subjects for dissection.
Dead scandals form good subjects for dissection.
I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs;
A palace and a prison on each hand;
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I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs;
A palace and a prison on each hand;
I saw from out the wave of her structure's rise
As from the stroke of the enchanter's wand:
A thousand years their cloudy wings expand
Around me, and a dying Glory smiles
O'er the far times, when many a subject land
Look'd to the winged Lion's marble pines,
Where Venice sate in state, throned on her hundred isles.
Eternal Spirit of the chainless Mind!
Brightest in dungeons, Liberty! thou art,
For there thy habitation is read more
Eternal Spirit of the chainless Mind!
Brightest in dungeons, Liberty! thou art,
For there thy habitation is the heart--
The heart which love of thee alone can bind;
And when thy sons to fetters are consign'd--
To fetters and damp vault's dayless gloom,
Their country conquers with their martyrdom.
- Lord Byron (George Gordon Noel Byron),
So sweet the blush of bashfulness,
E'en pity scarce can wish it less!
So sweet the blush of bashfulness,
E'en pity scarce can wish it less!
All Heaven and Earth are still, though not in sleep,
But breathless, as we grow when feeling most.
All Heaven and Earth are still, though not in sleep,
But breathless, as we grow when feeling most.
