Poems by Lord Byron

1. Poems byLord Byron She Walks in Beauty When We Two Parted To Caroline So We’ll Go No More a Roving

2. Poetry or Poems Poetry is a form of literary art in which language is used for its aesthetic and evocative qualities in addition to, or in lieu of, its apparent meaning. Works of poetry are called poems, and those who author poems are called poets

3. Lord Byron George Gordon Byron, 6th Baron Byron, (January,22nd 1788 – April 19th 1824), generally known as Lord Byron, was an Anglo-Scottish poet and leading figure in Romanticism.

4. 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 glow, But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent!

5. When We Two Parted When we two parted In slience and tears, Half broken-hearted, To sever for years, Pale grew thy cheek and cold, Colder thy kiss; Truly that hour foretold Sorrow to this! The dew of the morning Sunk chill on my brow; It felt like the warning Of what I feel now. Thy vows are all broken, And light is thy fame: I hear thy name spoken And share in it’s shame. They name thee before me, A knell to mine ear; A shudder comes o’er me- Why wert thou so dear? They know not I knew thee Who knew thee too well; How long shall I rue thee Too deeply to tell. In secret we met: In silence I grieve That thy heart could forget, Thy spirit deceive. If I should meet thee After long years, How should I greet thee?- With silence and tears.

6. To Caroline Think’stthou I saw thy beauteous eyes, Suffus’d in tears, implore to stay; And heard unmov’d thy plenteous sighs, Which said far more than words can say? Though keen the grief thy tears exprest, When love and hope lay both o’erthrown; Yet still, my girl, this bleeding breast Throbb’d, with deep sorrow, as thine own. But, when our cheeks with anguish glow’d, When thy sweet lips were join’d to mine; The tears that from my eyelids flow’d Were lost in those which fell from thine. Thou could’st not feel my burning cheek, Thy gushing tears had quench’d its flame, And, as thy tongue essay’d to speak, In sighs alone it breath’d my name. And yet, my girl, we weep in vain, In vain our fate in sighs deplore; Remembrance only can remain, But that, will make us weep the more. Again, thou best belov’d, adieu! Ah! if thou canst, o’ercome regret, Nor let thy mind past joys review, Our only hope is, to forget!

7. ‘So we’ll go no more a roving’ So we’ll go no more a roving So late into the night, Though the heart be still as loving, And the moon be still as bright. For the sword outwears its sheath, And the soul wears out the breast, And the heart must pause to breathe, And Love itself have rest. Though the night was made for loving, And the day returns too soon, Yet we’ll go no more a roving By the light of the moon.