George Gordon Noel Byron

For talk six times with the same single lady,
And you may get the wedding dress ready.

For talk six times with the same single lady,
And you may get the wedding dress ready.

A mere court butterfly,
That flutters in the pageant of a monarch.

A mere court butterfly,
That flutters in the pageant of a monarch.

This is to be along; this, this is solitude!

This is to be along; this, this is solitude!

The mellow autumn came, and with it came
The promised party, to enjoy its sweets.
The corn read more

The mellow autumn came, and with it came
The promised party, to enjoy its sweets.
The corn is cut, the manor full of game;
The pointer ranges, and the sportsman beats
In russet jacket;--lynx-like is his aim;
Full grows his bag, and wonderful his feats.
An, nutbrown partridges! An, brilliant pheasants!
And ah, ye poachers!--'Tis no sport for peasants.

And dreams in their development have breath,
And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy;
They read more

And dreams in their development have breath,
And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy;
They have a weight upon our waking thoughts,
They take a weight from off our waking toils,
They do divide our being.