Category Lord Byron

Few years have pass’d since thou and I  Were firmest friends, at least in name,And Childhood’s gay sincerity  Preserved our feelings long the same. But now, like me, too well thou know’st  What trifles oft the heart recall;And those who once have loved…

Remind me not, remind me not,Of those beloved, those vanish’d hours,When all my soul was given to thee;Hours that may never be forgot,Till Time unnerves our vital powers,And thou and I shall cease to be. Can I forget canst thou…

And wilt thou weep when I am low?Sweet lady! speak those words again:Yet if they grieve thee, say not so–I would not give that bosom pain. My heart is sad, my hopes are gone,My blood runs coldly through my breast;And…

There was a time, I need not name,Since it will ne’er forgotten be,When all our feelings were the sameAs still my soul hath been to thee. And from that hour when first thy tongueConfess’d a love which equall’d mine,Though many…

1. Harriet! to see such Circumspection,In Ladies I have no objection       Concerning what they read;An ancient Maid’s a sage adviser,Like her you will be much the wiser,       In word, as well as Deed. 2. But Harriet, I don’t…

Breeze of the night in gentler sighsMore softly murmur o’er the pillow;For Slumber seals my Fanny’s eyes,And Peace must never shun her pillow. Or breathe those sweet æolian strainsStolen from celestial spheres above,To charm her ear while some remains,And soothe…

The Moralists tell us that Loving is Sinning, And always are prating about and about it, But as Love of Existence itself’s the beginning, Say, what would Existence itself be without it? They argue the point with much furious Invective, Though…

Welcome, you, so small and strange.I cannot think your gift is due;Need that drinks away the guiltOf carelessly conceiving you. Never in your teens and twentiesMay I turn around and say:The balm of need is all forgotten;Children for their succour…

Here once engaged the stranger’s viewYoung Friendship’s record simply traced;Few were her words; but yet, though few,Resentment’s hand the line defaced. Deeply she cut–but not erased,The characters were still so plain,That Friendship once return’d, and gazed,–Till Memory hail’d the words…

Young Oak! when I planted thee deep in the ground,I hoped that thy days would be longer than mine;That thy dark‑waving branches would flourish around,And ivy thy trunk with its mantle entwine. Such, such was my hope, when in infancy’sOn…