Childe Harold's Pilgrimage A Poem by Lord Byron www.gutenberg.org And thus the heart will breakWords which are thingsThere is a pleasure in the pathless woods lovenaturelonelinessmelancholy
Prometheus A Poem by Lord Byron www.poetryfoundation.org The lightnings trembledThe sum of human wretchednessMaking Death a Victory Subjected to some great trialA hierarchical system of senseYou find reasons to keep living deathsufferingpain
Darkness A Poem by Lord Byron I had a dreamBut one thoughtShe was the universeDarkling in the eternal space darknessdeath
Epitaph to a Dog A Poem by Lord Byron Show image 0 Show image 1 Ye! who behold perchance this simple urn, Pass on, it honours none you wish to mourn. To mark a friend's remains these stones arise; I never knew but one — and here he lies. deathfriendship
Dark satanic mills And did the Countenance Divine, Shine forth upon our clouded hills? And was Jerusalem builded here, Among these dark Satanic Mills? William Blake, And did those feet in ancient time Dark satanic steelStepping out of the firehose industry