Explore "To Byron" by John Keats on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Byron! how sweetly sad thy melody!
Attuning still the soul to tenderness, / As if soft Pity, with unusual stress, / Had touch'd her plaintive lute, and thou, being by, / Hadst caught the tones, nor suffer'd them to die.
O'ershadowing sorrow doth not make thee less / Delightful: thou thy griefs dost dress / With a bright halo, shining beamily, / As when a cloud the golden moon doth veil, / Its sides are ting'd with a resplendent glow, / Through the dark robe oft amber rays prevail, / And like fair veins in sable marble flow; / Still warble, dying swan! still tell the tale, / The enchanting tale, the tale of pleasing woe.