And wilt thou weep when I am low?
Sweet lady! speak those words again:
Yet if they grieve thee, say not so--
I would not give that bosom pain.
My heart is sad, my hopes are gone,
My blood runs coldly through my breast;
And when I perish, thou alone
Wilt sigh above my place of rest.
And yet, methinks, a gleam of peace
Doth through my cloud of anguish shine:
And for a while my sorrows cease,
To know thy heart hath felt for mine.
Oh lady! blessd be that tear--
It falls for one who cannot weep;
Such precious drops are doubly dear
To those whose eyes no tear may steep.
Sweet lady! once my heart was warm
With every feeling soft as thine;
But Beauty's self hath ceased to charm
A wretch created to repine.
Yet wilt thou weep when I am low?
Sweet lady! speak those words again:
Yet if they grieve thee, say not so--
I would not give that bosom pain.
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"Yet if it grieve thee, say not so--
I would not give that bosom pain."
What have I been doing these past few years? The guiding light I've been missing so long has been here, -- been there. Words so sensual and poetic... oh, I am but mediocre compared to one so great as thee, Lord Byron! Were you still alive, I would travel the Rhine with you, if you would allow me, and take in your knowledge and passion. You were the summer; we are but swallows in pursuit!
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In his sweet words, we here, do find
language from a different time.
his words do stay upon my mind,
how eloquently do they rhyme. -
And so the legend of Lord Byron's "sweet" tongue can only be imagined by the ladies of our day... Though I can count my blessing not many men in my time, could use such dazzling words to lure prey.
Edited on Feb 13, 7:51 p.m. because ''. -
beauty
"Sweet lady! once my heart was warm
With every feeling soft as thine;
But Beauty's self hath ceased to charm
A wretch created to repine."
very simple n straight yet deep.beauty
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