Lord Byron Poems
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
- Lachin Y Gair
- Lara
- Lines Inscribed Upon a Cup Formed from a Skull
- Lines to Mr. Hodgson Written on Board the Lisbon Packet
- Manfred
- My Soul is Dark
- Oh! Snatched Away in Beauty's Bloom
- On This Day I Complete My Thirty-sixth Year
- On a Distant View of the Village and School of Harrow on the Hill
- 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