In the desert a fountain is springing,
In the wide waste there still is a tree,
And a bird in the solitude singing,
Which speaks to my spirit of thee.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824)
-- Stanzas to Augusta
In the wide waste there still is a tree,
And a bird in the solitude singing,
Which speaks to my spirit of thee.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824)
-- Stanzas to Augusta
Related:
- The careful pilot of my proper woe.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824)
-
Epistle to Augusta, Stanza... - Fare thee well! and if forever,
Still forever fare thee well.
Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Fare thee... - Were 't the last drop in the well,
As I gasp'd upon the brink,
Ere my fainting spirit fell 'T is to thee that I... - Alas! our young affections run to waste,
Or water but the desert.
Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage... - The keenest pangs the wretched find
Are rapture to the dreary void,
The leafless desert of the mind, The waste of feelings... - Oh that the desert were my dwelling-place,
With one fair spirit for my minister,
That I might all forget the human race, And hating... - A change came o'er the spirit of my dream.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824)
-
The Dream, Stanza... - As down in the sunless retreats of the ocean
Sweet flowers are springing no mortal can see,
So deep in my soul the still prayer of devotion, ... - There 's not a joy the world can give like that it takes away.
Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- The Dream, Stanzas for...
