Lord Byron: Selected Poetry

I can never get people to understand that poetry is the expression of excited passion, and that there is no such thing as a life of passion any more than a continuous earthquake, or an eternal fever. Besides, who would ever shave themselves in such a state?
Lord Byron, in a letter to Thomas Moore, 5 July 1821

(in alphabetical order)
And Thou Art Dead, as Young and Fair
By the Rivers of Babylon We Sat Down and Wept
Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Cantos One through Four

Dear Doctor, I Have Read Your Play
The Destruction of Sennacherib
Don Juan: Dedication

English Bards and Scotch Reviewers
Epistle to Augusta

Fare Thee Well
Farewell! If Ever Fondest Prayer

The Harp the Monarch Minstrel Swept

I Would I Were a Careless Child
Inscription on the Monument of a Newfoundland Dog

John Keats

Lachin Y Gair
Lines Inscribed Upon a Cup Formed from a Skull
Lines to Mr. Hodgson Written on Board the Lisbon Packet

My Soul is Dark

Oh! Snatched Away in Beauty's Bloom
On This Day I Complete My Thirty-sixth Year


Remember Thee! Remember Thee!

Please note: the following poems will be added eventually; I apologize for any inconvenience.

She Walks in Beauty
So We'll Go No More a Roving
Song of Saul Before His Last Battle
Sonnet on Chillon
Sonnet to Lake Leman
Stanzas for Music 1815
Stanzas for Music 1816
Stanzas to Augusta
Stanzas Written on the Road Between Florence and Pisa

The Vision of Judgment
The World is a Bundle of Hay
To a Beautiful Quaker
To Edward Noel Long, Esq.
To a Lady Who Presented to the Author a Lock of Hair Braided with His Own, and Appointed at a Night in December to Meet Him in the Garden
To M.S.G. (manuscript titled "G.G.B. to E.P.")
To Thyrza


When Coldness Wraps This Suffering Clay
When a Man Hath No Freedom to Fight for at Home
When We Two Parted
Written After Swimming from Sestos to Abydos