Read "Stanzas Written on the Road between Florence and Pisa" by Lord Byron online for free on Textopian. Full text with search, annotations, highlights, and AI-powered reading aids.
Oh, 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?
O 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.