George Gordon Noel Byron

A lovely being, scarcely formed or moulded,
A rose with all its sweetest leaves yet folded.

A lovely being, scarcely formed or moulded,
A rose with all its sweetest leaves yet folded.

But yet she listen'd--'tis enough--
Who listens once will listen twice;
Her heart, be sure, is not read more

But yet she listen'd--'tis enough--
Who listens once will listen twice;
Her heart, be sure, is not of ice,
And one refusal no rebuff.

In Venice, Tass's echoes are no more,
And silent rows the songless gondolier;
Her palaces are crumbling read more

In Venice, Tass's echoes are no more,
And silent rows the songless gondolier;
Her palaces are crumbling to the shore,
And music meets not always now the ear.

With eyes that look'd into the very soul--
. . . .
Bright--and as black and burning read more

With eyes that look'd into the very soul--
. . . .
Bright--and as black and burning as coal.

We two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted
To sever for years.

We two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted
To sever for years.