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Time Writes No Wrinkle On Thine Azure Brow,-- Such As Creation's Dawn Beheld, Thou Rollest Now.
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Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow,--
Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824)
-- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iv, Stanza 182
Related:
Man! Thou pendulum betwixt a smile and tear.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iv, Stanza 109...
Egeria! sweet creation of some heart Which found no mortal resting-place so fair As thine ideal breast.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iv, Stanza 115...
Tully was not so eloquent as thou, Thou nameless column with the buried base.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iv, Stanza 110...
Italia! O Italia! thou who hast The fatal gift of beauty.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iv, Stanza 42...
Thou wert a beautiful thought, and softly bodied forth.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iv, Stanza 115...
Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form Glasses itself in tempests.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iv, Stanza 183...
There are some feelings time cannot benumb, Nor torture shake.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iv, Stanza 19...
Fills The air around with beauty.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iv, Stanza 49...
The Ariosto of the North.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iv, Stanza 40...