George Gordon Noel Byron ( 10 of 329 )
Folly loves the martyrdom of Fame.
Folly loves the martyrdom of Fame.
The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece!
Where burning Sappho loved and sung.
Where grew the read more
The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece!
Where burning Sappho loved and sung.
Where grew the arts of war and peace,--
Where Delos rose, and Phoebus sprung!
Eternal summer gilds them yet,
But all, except their sun, is set.
Born in the garret, in the kitchen bred.
Born in the garret, in the kitchen bred.
Who track the steps of Glory to the grave.
Who track the steps of Glory to the grave.
So bright the tear in Beauty's eye,
Love half regrets to kiss it dry.
So bright the tear in Beauty's eye,
Love half regrets to kiss it dry.
Be thou the rainbow to the storms of life!
The evening beam that smiles the clouds away,
read more
Be thou the rainbow to the storms of life!
The evening beam that smiles the clouds away,
And tints to-morrow with prophetic ray!
I live not in myself, but I become
Portion of that around me; and to me
High read more
I live not in myself, but I become
Portion of that around me; and to me
High mountains are a feeling, but the hum
Of human cities torture.
There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There read more
There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society where none intrudes
By the deep Sea, and music in its roar.
Among them, but not of them.
Among them, but not of them.
'Twas twilight, and the sunless day went down
Over the waste of waters; like a veil,
Which, read more
'Twas twilight, and the sunless day went down
Over the waste of waters; like a veil,
Which, if withdrawn, would but disclose the frown
Of one whose hate is mask'd but to assail.
