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The simple Wordsworth . . . / Who, both by precept and example, shows / That prose is verse, and verse is merely prose.

Lord Byron

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Lord Byron
Age: 36 †
Born: 1788
Born: January 22
Died: 1824
Died: April 19
Autobiographer
Baron Byron
Diarist
Librettist
Lyricist
Military Personnel
Playwright
Poet
Politician
Translator
Writer
London
England
George Gordon Byron
George Gordon Byron
6th Baron Byron
Noel Byron
Xhorxh Bajroni
Bajron
George Gordon
Jerzy Gordon Byron
Pai-lun
Baron Byron George Gordon Byron
6th Baron Byron George Gordon Noel
Byron
George Gordon Byron
Baron Byron
6th Baron Byron George Gordon Byron
George Gordon Noël Byron Byron
Bayrěn
Payrěn
George Gordon By
Example
Simple
Shows
Wordsworth
Precept
Verse
Verses
Prose
Merely

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There is music in all things, if men had ears.
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There are some feelings time cannot benumb, Nor torture shake.
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If ancient tales say true, nor wrong these holy men.
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The English winter - ending in July to recommence in August
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He who grown aged in this world of woe, In deeds, not years, piercing the depths of life, So that no wonder waits him.
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Twas twilight, and the sunless day went down Over the waste of waters like a veil, Which, if withdrawn, would but disclose the frown Of one whose hate is mask'd but to assail.
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Most glorious night! Thou wert not sent for slumber!
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For truth is always strange stranger than fiction.
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If from society we learn to live, solitude should teach us how to die.
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The great art of life is sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain.
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Friendship is Love without his wings!
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You gave me the key to your heart, my love, then why did you make me knock?
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Do proper homage to thine idol's eyes But no too humbly, or she will despise Thee and thy suit, though told in moving tropes: Disguise even tenderness if thou art wise.
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Then, fare thee well, deceitful Maid!
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He who is only just is cruel who Upon the earth would live were all judged justly?
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Grief is fantastical, and loves the dead, And the apparel of the grave.
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Roll on, deep and dark blue ocean, roll. Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain. Man marks the earth with ruin, but his control stops with the shore.
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Shakespeare's name, you may depend on it, stands absurdly too high and will go down.
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The very best of vineyards is the cellar
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Religion-freedom-vengeance-what you will, A word's enough to raise mankind to kill.
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