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Hace 4 días · I tore me from thy circling arms, To madness fir'd by doubts and fears, Heedless of thy suspicious tears, Nor feeling for thy feign'd alarms. 3. Resigning every thought of bliss, Forever, from your love I go, Reckless of all the tears that flow, Disdaining thy polluted kiss.
Hace 2 días · She Walks In Beauty. She walks in beauty, like the night. Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright. Meet in her aspect and her eyes: Thus mellowed to that tender light. Which heaven to gaudy day denies. One shade the more, one ray the less, Had half impaired the nameless grace.
Hace 2 días · Invoke them no more, bid adieu to the Muse, And try the effect, of the first kiss of love. I hate you, ye cold compositions of art, Though prudes may condemn me, and bigots reprove; I court the effusions that spring from the heart, Which throbs, with delight, to the first kiss of love. Your shepherds, your flocks, those fantastical themes ...
Hace 2 días · 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. The Scian and the Teian muse, The hero 's harp, the lover's lute, Have found the fame your shores refuse: Their place of birth alone is mute.
Hace 5 días · To Caroline (ii) You say you love, and yet your eye. No symptom of that love conveys, You say you love, yet know not why, Your cheek no sign of love betrays. Ah! did that breast with ardour glow, With me alone it joy could know, Or feel with me the listless woe, Which racks my heart when far from thee.
Hace 5 días · George the triumphant speeds over the wave, To the long-cherish'd isle which he loved like his--bride! Which betray'd not, or crush'd not, or wept not her cause. Is extending its steps to her desolate shore. For the dungeon he quits is the place of his birth. But he comes! the Messiah of royalty comes!
Hace 5 días · Poem by George Gordon Byron. Poems Quotes Books Biography Comments. Epistle To Augusta. [83] I. My Sister! my sweet Sister! if a name. Dearer and purer were, it should be thine. Mountains and seas divide us, but I claim. No tears, but tenderness to answer mine:
