Concept T shirts Reviews

When we two parted

When we two parted
In silence 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 its shame.

They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear;
A shrudder comes o’er me-
Why wert thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee,
Who knew thee so well–
Long, long I shall 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.

The best Byron I’ve posted so far. Perfect!

Blow, blow, thou winter wind,
Thou art not so unkind
As man’s ingratitude;
Thy tooth is not so keen
Because thou art not seen,
Although thy breath be rude.
Heigh-ho! sing heigh-ho! unto the green holly:
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly:
Then, heigh-ho! the holly!
This life is most jolly.

Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,
Thou dost not bite so nigh
As benefits forgot:
Though thou the waters warp,
Thy sting is not so sharp
As friend remember’d not.
Heigh-ho! sing heigh-ho! unto the green holly:
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly:
Then, heigh-ho! the holly!
This life is most jolly.

TO —-

Think’st thou 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 could say.

Though deep 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 where join’d to mine;
The tears that from my eye-lids 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.

1805.

I meant to post this yesterday, but here is another Byron poem. There is no one better, he is fantastic.
Let Folly smile, to view the names
Of thee and me in friendship twin’d,
Yet virtue will have greater claims
To love, than rank with vice combin’d.

And though unequal is thy fate,
Since title deck’d my higher birth;
Yet envy not this gaudy state,
Thine is the pride of modest worth.

Our souls at least congenial meet,
Nor can thy lot my rank disgrace;
Our intercourse is not less sweet,
Since worth of rank supplies the place.