George Gordon Noel Byron

Her eye (I'm very fond of handsome eyes)
Was large and dark, suppressing half its fire
Until read more

Her eye (I'm very fond of handsome eyes)
Was large and dark, suppressing half its fire
Until she spoke, then through its soft disguise
Flash'd an expression more of pride than ire,
And love than either; and there would arise,
A something in them which was not desire,
But would have been, perhaps, but for the soul,
Which struggled through and chansten'd down the whole.

His heart was one of those which most enamour us,
Wax to receive, and marble to retain.

His heart was one of those which most enamour us,
Wax to receive, and marble to retain.

Soprano, basso, even the contra-alto
Wished him five fathom under the Rialto.

Soprano, basso, even the contra-alto
Wished him five fathom under the Rialto.

I stood
Among them, but not of them: in a shroud
Of thoughts which were not their read more

I stood
Among them, but not of them: in a shroud
Of thoughts which were not their thoughts.

Oh that the desert were my dwelling-place!

Oh that the desert were my dwelling-place!