Explore "Stanzas to the Po" by Lord Byron on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
River, that rollest by the ancient walls, / Where dwells the Lady of my love, when she / Walks by thy brink, and there perchance recalls / A faint and fleeting memory of me:
What if thy deep and ample stream should be / A mirror of my heart, where she may read / The thousand thoughts I now betray to thee, / Wild as thy wave, and headlong as thy speed!