Tuesday, January 22, 2008

Dangerous To Know

She Walks in Beauty

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

George Gordon, Lord Byron 1815

Byron wrote this when he was 27 years old, devastatingly handsome, and undeniably scandalous. He was famous for his affairs and eventually had to flee polite society. One of his discarded lovers called him "mad, bad and dangerous to know." Well, if he was going to write stuff like this, one can certainly see why women threw themselves at him like moths to a flame.

It works.


morpho aurora said...

oh yes it does, very well indeed. whew! ;)
seriously, i love that poem. how many times did you swoon while typing it in?

anglophile said...

I went through two keyboards! ;)

Wade said...

i am curious if last night's moon brought this poem to mind. :D

anglophile said...

Nope, wish I could take credit for connecting the two. ;)

Just felt like something swoon-worthy today. :P

lizardrinking said...

hey, I really like your comments on the poems. I don't read too much of the older stuff. Oh well.
I love the little poem you made with all the links! Was it intentional?
Chris F,
I was thinking...
(hmmm)maybe I will
wade into the water.

I know it was intentional!

anglophile said...

*struggles mightily with herself to resist taking credit again*

Nope, just alphabetical order so as not to show favoritism. ;)

*wishes she were as clever as friends apparently think*

lizardrinking said...

Well, it's a *found* poem then!
I did think of the alphabetical thing after the fact... :)