Poems Of George Gordon, Lord Byron

Author: Byron, Lord

Written: 1803

All For Love

All For Love

O talk not to me of a name great in story; The days of our youth are the days of our glory; And the myrtle and ivy of sweet two - and - twenty Are worth all your laurels, though ever so plenty.

What are garlands and crowns to the brow that is wrinkled? 'Tis but as a dead flower with May - dew besprinkled: Then away with all such from the head that is hoary - What care I for the wreaths that can only give glory?

Oh Fame! - if I e'er took delight in thy praises,

'Twas less for the sake of thy high - sounding phrases, Than to see the bright eyes of the dear one discover She thought that I was not unworthy to love her.

There chiefly I sought thee, there only I found thee; Her glance was the best of the rays that surround thee; When it sparkled o'er aught that was bright in my story, I knew it was love, and I felt it was glory.