George Gordon Noel Byron ( 10 of 329 )
She bears her down majestically near,
Speed on her prow, and terror in her tier.
She bears her down majestically near,
Speed on her prow, and terror in her tier.
Fare thee well! and if for ever,
Still for ever, fare thee well.
Fare thee well! and if for ever,
Still for ever, fare thee well.
Brave men are all vertebrates; they have their softness on the
surface and their toughness in the middle.
Brave men are all vertebrates; they have their softness on the
surface and their toughness in the middle.
Of all the horrid, hideous notes of woe,
Sadder than owl-songs or the midnight blast;
Is that read more
Of all the horrid, hideous notes of woe,
Sadder than owl-songs or the midnight blast;
Is that portentous phrase, "I told you so."
Sorrow preys upon
Its solitude, and nothing more diverts it
From its sad visions of the other read more
Sorrow preys upon
Its solitude, and nothing more diverts it
From its sad visions of the other world
Than calling it at moments back to this.
The busy have no time for tears.
And be the Spartan's epitaph on me--
"Sparta hath many a worthier son than he."
And be the Spartan's epitaph on me--
"Sparta hath many a worthier son than he."
The devil hath not, in all his quiver's choice,
An arrow for the heart like a sweet voice.
The devil hath not, in all his quiver's choice,
An arrow for the heart like a sweet voice.
The castled crag of Drachenfels,
Frowns o'er the wide and winding Rhine,
Whose breast of waters broadly read more
The castled crag of Drachenfels,
Frowns o'er the wide and winding Rhine,
Whose breast of waters broadly swells
Between the banks which bear the vine,
And hills all rich with blossom'd trees,
And fields which promise corn and wine,
And scatter'd cities crowning these,
Whose far white walls along them shine.
From the mingled strength of shade and light
A new creation rises to my sight,
Such heav'nly read more
From the mingled strength of shade and light
A new creation rises to my sight,
Such heav'nly figures from his pencil flow,
So warm with light his blended colors glow.
. . . .
The glowing portraits, fresh from life, that bring
Home to our hearts the truth from which they spring.
The thorns which I have reap'd are of the tree
I planted--they have torn me--and I bleed!
read more
The thorns which I have reap'd are of the tree
I planted--they have torn me--and I bleed!
I should have known what fruit would spring from such a seed.
