 | Lyrics and Dramas |  |
90
LOVE AND THE POET
You wonder why within your arms
Laura, I seem to slight your charms;
And yet when seas our spirit part,
I waft you music of the heart.
I am a poet, born to stray,
And so my thoughts are far away.
Laura, I seem to slight your charms;
And yet when seas our spirit part,
I waft you music of the heart.
I am a poet, born to stray,
And so my thoughts are far away.
When Byron on the Italian breast
His burning brow in passion prest,
Dear Countess, while he gazed on you,
His soul to Mary Chaworth flew.
He was a poet, born to stray,
And so his thoughts were far away.
His burning brow in passion prest,
Dear Countess, while he gazed on you,
His soul to Mary Chaworth flew.
He was a poet, born to stray,
And so his thoughts were far away.
What woman will this satisfy
In England or in Italy?
It flatters not a lady's ear
That only distance makes her dear.
But every poet, born to stray,
Still feeds upon the far-away.
In England or in Italy?
It flatters not a lady's ear
That only distance makes her dear.
But every poet, born to stray,
Still feeds upon the far-away.
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