But 'midst The Crowd, The Hum, The Shock Of Men, To Hear, To See, To Feel, And To Possess, And Roam Along, The World's Tired Denizen, With None Who Bless Us, None Whom We Can Bless.

Land of lost gods and godlike men.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto ii, Stanza 85...
Where'er we tread, 't is haunted, holy ground.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto ii, Stanza 88...
None are so desolate but something dear, Dearer than self, possesses or possess'd A thought, and claims the homage of a tear.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto ii, Stanza 24...
Ah, happy years! once more who would not be a boy?
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto ii, Stanza 23...
A schoolboy's tale, the wonder of an hour!
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto ii, Stanza 2...
Coop'd in their winged, sea-girt citadel.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto ii, Stanza 28...
Gone, glimmering through the dream of things that were.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto ii, Stanza 2...
The dome of thought, the palace of the soul.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto ii, Stanza 6...
By Heaven! it is a splendid sight to see For one who hath no friend, no brother there.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto i, Stanza 40...