George Gordon Byron
George Gordon Byron Poems
|281.||Love's Last Adieu||1/1/2004|
|282.||Remember Him, Whom Passion's Power||1/1/2004|
|283.||The Destruction Of Sennacherib||1/1/2004|
|285.||Don Juan: Canto The First||1/1/2004|
|286.||And Wilt Thou Weep When I Am Low?||3/24/2010|
|287.||Dear Doctor, I Have Read Your Play||1/1/2004|
|288.||I Would I Were A Careless Child||1/1/2004|
|289.||It Is The Hour||1/1/2004|
|290.||My Soul Is Dark||1/1/2004|
|293.||I Speak Not, I Trace Not, I Breathe Not Thy Name||3/24/2010|
|294.||So We'Ll Go No More A-Roving||1/1/2004|
|295.||There Is Pleasure In The Pathless Woods||3/25/2010|
|296.||When We Two Parted||1/1/2004|
|297.||She Walks In Beauty||3/24/2010|
Comments about George Gordon Byron
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
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express,
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that ...
Oh! did those eyes, instead of fire,
With bright, but mild affection shine:
Though they might kindle less desire,
Love, more than mortal, would be thine.
For thou art form'd so heavenly fair,
Howe'er those orbs may wildly beam,
We must admire, but still despair;
That fatal glance forbids esteem.