Fuess and Stearns, comps. The Little Book of Society Verse. 1922.
By. Lord ByronTo a Lady
W
A moment linger’d near the gate,
Each scene recall’d the vanish’d hours,
And bade him curse his future fate.
He learnt to bear his load of grief;
Just gave a sigh to other times,
And found in busier scenes relief.
And I must view thy charms no more;
For, while I linger near to thee,
I sigh for all I knew before.
Escaping from temptation’s snare;
I cannot view my paradise
Without the wish of dwelling there.