George Gordon Noel Byron

Maidens, like moths, are ever caught, by glare,
And Mammon wins his way where seraphs might despair.

Maidens, like moths, are ever caught, by glare,
And Mammon wins his way where seraphs might despair.

Once more upon the waters! yet once more!
And the waves bound beneath me as a steed
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Once more upon the waters! yet once more!
And the waves bound beneath me as a steed
That knows his rider.

And, after all, what is a lie? 'Tis but
The truth in masquerade.

And, after all, what is a lie? 'Tis but
The truth in masquerade.

Of all tales 'tis the saddest--and more sad,
Because it makes us smile.

Of all tales 'tis the saddest--and more sad,
Because it makes us smile.

A little curly-headed, good-for-nothing,
And mischief-making monkey from his birth.

A little curly-headed, good-for-nothing,
And mischief-making monkey from his birth.