George Gordon Noel Byron

Just as old age is creeping on space,
And clouds come o'er the sunset of our day,
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Just as old age is creeping on space,
And clouds come o'er the sunset of our day,
They kindly leave us, though not quite alone,
But in good company--the gout or stone.

Smiles form the channels of a future tear.

Smiles form the channels of a future tear.

The careful pilot of my proper woe.

The careful pilot of my proper woe.

Gone--glimmering through the dream of things that were.

Gone--glimmering through the dream of things that were.

From the mingled strength of shade and light
A new creation rises to my sight,
Such heav'nly read more

From the mingled strength of shade and light
A new creation rises to my sight,
Such heav'nly figures from his pencil flow,
So warm with light his blended colors glow.
. . . .
The glowing portraits, fresh from life, that bring
Home to our hearts the truth from which they spring.