English poem
Lines Written Beneath a Picture
by Lord Byron
Dear object of defeated care! Though now of Love and thee bereft, To reconcile me with despair Thine image and my tears are left.
'Tis said with Sorrow Time can cope; But this I feel can ne'er be true: For by the death-blow of my Hope My Memory immortal grew.
More by Lord Byron
- Lines Addressed to a Young Lady
- Lines in the Travellers' Book at Orchomenus
- Lines to a Lady Weeping
- Lines to Mr. Hodgson. Written on Board the Lisbon Packet
- Lines Written in "Letters of an Italian Nun and an English Gentleman, by J. J. Rousseau; Founded on Facts."
- Lines Written in an Album, at Malta
- Lines Written on a Blank Leaf of _the Pleasures of Memory_
- Lord Byron's Verses on Sam Rogers