Category Archives: poet

Bryonically Lyrical: Forbidden Love

Last Words On Greece

What are to me those honours or renown
    Past or to come, a new born people’s cry?
Albeit for such I could despise a crown
    Of aught save laurel, or for such could die.
I am a fool of passion, and a frown
    Of thine to me is an adder’s eye
To the poor bird whose pinion fluttering down
    Wafts unto death the breast it bore so high;
Such is this maddening fascination grown,
    So strong thy magic or so weak am I.


Photograph: Sooreh Hera

Poem: Lord Noel Byron

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