George Gordon Noel Byron ( 10 of 329 )
For I am a weed,
Flung from the rock, on Ocean's foam, to sail,
Where'er the surge read more
For I am a weed,
Flung from the rock, on Ocean's foam, to sail,
Where'er the surge may sweep, the tempest's breath prevail.
My days are in the yellow leaf;
The flowers and fruits of love are gone;
The worm, read more
My days are in the yellow leaf;
The flowers and fruits of love are gone;
The worm, the canker, and the grief
Are mine alone!
- Lord Byron (George Gordon Noel Byron),
Besides, they always smell of bread and butter.
Besides, they always smell of bread and butter.
Farce follow'd Comedy, and reach'd her prime.
In ever-laughing Foote's fantastic time;
Mad wag! who pardon'd none, read more
Farce follow'd Comedy, and reach'd her prime.
In ever-laughing Foote's fantastic time;
Mad wag! who pardon'd none, nor spared the best,
And turn'd some very serious things to jest.
Nor church nor state escaped his public sneers,
Arms nor the gown, priests, lawyers, volunteers;
"Alas, poor Yorick!" now forever mute!
Whoever loves a laugh must sigh for Foote.
We smile, perforce, when histrionic scenes
Ape the swoln dialogue of kings and queens,
When "Chrononhotonthelogos must die,"
And Arthur struts in mimic majesty.
Maidens, like moths, are ever caught, by glare,
And Mammon wins his way where seraphs might despair.
Maidens, like moths, are ever caught, by glare,
And Mammon wins his way where seraphs might despair.
So well she acted all and every part
By turns--with that vivacious versatility,
Which many people take read more
So well she acted all and every part
By turns--with that vivacious versatility,
Which many people take for want of heart.
They err--'tis merely what is call'd mobility,
A thing of temperament and not of art,
Though seeming so, from its supposed facility;
And false--though true; for surely they're sincerest
Who are strongly acted on by what is nearest.
In solitude, when we are least alone.
In solitude, when we are least alone.
Thou who hast
The fatal gist of beauty.
Thou who hast
The fatal gist of beauty.
This is to be along; this, this is solitude!
This is to be along; this, this is solitude!
Modesty is the only sure bait when you are fishing for praise.
Modesty is the only sure bait when you are fishing for praise.
