Public Domain Poetry And Stories - To A Beautiful Quaker. [1] by George Gordon Byron
Public domain poetry and public domain stories from the literary greats of yesteryear.
Custom Search
Main Menu

Home

Latest Poetry

Latest Authors

Authors Surname

Authors First Name

Poetry Title

Poetry First Lines

Latest Stories

Stories Title

Top Authors

Top Poetry


Top Stories Etc.

Search

Contact Us

Useless Information!!

Store



Top Sites, Click here to vote for our site

Sponsored Links

Read, Rate, Comment on or Submit your poetry

To A Beautiful Quaker. [1]

    By George Gordon Byron



    Sweet girl! though only once we met,
    That meeting I shall ne'er forget;
    And though we ne'er may meet again,
    Remembrance will thy form retain;
    I would not say, "I love," but still,
    My senses struggle with my will:
    In vain to drive thee from my breast,
    My thoughts are more and more represt;
    In vain I check the rising sighs,
    Another to the last replies:
    Perhaps, this is not love, but yet,
    Our meeting I can ne'er forget.

    What, though we never silence broke,
    Our eyes a sweeter language spoke;
    The tongue in flattering falsehood deals,
    And tells a tale it never feels:
    Deceit, the guilty lips impart,
    And hush the mandates of the heart;
    But soul's interpreters, the eyes,
    Spurn such restraint, and scorn disguise.
    As thus our glances oft convers'd,
    And all our bosoms felt rehears'd,
    No spirit, from within, reprov'd us,
    Say rather, "'twas the spirit mov'd us."
    Though, what they utter'd, I repress,
    Yet I conceive thou'lt partly guess;
    For as on thee, my memory ponders,
    Perchance to me, thine also wanders.
    This, for myself, at least, I'll say,
    Thy form appears through night, through day;
    Awake, with it my fancy teems,
    In sleep, it smiles in fleeting dreams;
    The vision charms the hours away,
    And bids me curse Aurora's ray
    For breaking slumbers of delight,
    Which make me wish for endless night.
    Since, oh! whate'er my future fate,
    Shall joy or woe my steps await;
    Tempted by love, by storms beset,
    Thine image, I can ne'er forget.

    Alas! again no more we meet,
    No more our former looks repeat;
    Then, let me breathe this parting prayer,
    The dictate of my bosom's care:
    "May Heaven so guard my lovely quaker,
    That anguish never can o'ertake her;
    That peace and virtue ne'er forsake her,
    But bliss be aye her heart's partaker!
    Oh! may the happy mortal, fated
    To be, by dearest ties, related,
    For her, each hour, new joys discover,
    And lose the husband in the lover!
    May that fair bosom never know
    What 'tis to feel the restless woe,
    Which stings the soul, with vain regret,
    Of him, who never can forget!"



Extra Info:
1: Whom the author saw at Harrowgate.

Annotated copy of 'P. on V. Occasions', p. 64 (British Museum).


Printable Page

Add Your Thoughts on this poem.



This page viewed 592 times.
Sponsored Links


Your Shops - Affordable Ecommerce stores and cheaper goods for customers - No listing fees!



Our Sites