George Gordon Noel Byron

It is the hour when from the boughs
The nightingale's high note is heard;
It is the read more

It is the hour when from the boughs
The nightingale's high note is heard;
It is the hour when lovers' vows
Seem sweet in every whispered word;
And gentle winds, and waters near,
Make music to the lonely ear.
Each flower the dews have lightly wet,
And in the sky the stars are met,
And on the wave is deeper blue,
And on the leaf a browner hue,
And in the heaven that clear obscure,
So softly dark, and darkly pure.
Which follows the decline of day,
As twilight melts beneath the moon away.

Tyranny
Is far the worst of treasons. Dost thou deem
None rebels except subjects? The prince who
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Tyranny
Is far the worst of treasons. Dost thou deem
None rebels except subjects? The prince who
Neglects or violates his trust is more
A brigand than the robber-chief.

Music arose with its voluptuous swell,
Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again,
And all read more

Music arose with its voluptuous swell,
Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again,
And all went merry as a marriage bell.

In solitude, when we are least alone.

In solitude, when we are least alone.

In friendship I early was taught to believe;
. . . .
I have found that a read more

In friendship I early was taught to believe;
. . . .
I have found that a friend may profess, yet deceive.