Wednesday, November 12, 2008

entry 160











































1 comment:

mr.t said...

Lord Byron. 1788–1824

He walks in Beauty

HE walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that 's best of dark and bright
Meet in his aspect and his eyes:
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er his 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!