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He Who Grown Aged In This World Of Woe, In Deeds, Not Years, Piercing The Depths Of Life, So That No Wonder Waits Him.
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He who grown aged in this world of woe,
In deeds, not years, piercing the depths of life,
So that no wonder waits him.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824)
-- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iii, Stanza 5
Related:
He rush'd into the field, and foremost fighting fell.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iii, Stanza 23...
I have not loved the world, nor the world me.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iii, Stanza 113...
Years steal Fire from the mind as vigour from the limb, And life's enchanted cup but sparkles near the brim.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iii, Stanza 8...
A schoolboy's tale, the wonder of an hour!
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto ii, Stanza 2...
Had sigh'd to many, though he loved but one.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto i, stanza 5...
He had kept The whiteness of his soul, and thus men o'er him wept.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iii, Stanza 57...
Ah, happy years! once more who would not be a boy?
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto ii, Stanza 23...
And thus the heart will break, yet brokenly live on.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iii, Stanza 32...
On the ear Drops the light drip of the suspended oar.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iii, Stanza 86...