A rushing wave of emotion, This is where my devotion Lies, Perhaps even thrives Under the throes of struggle My blood, sweat and tears All the demons I’ve overcome and fears The breeze of the sea hits my face Confusion and nostalgia Deadline pushing me to get outchea The dread of scrutiny Closely evaluating and judging every line What is the divine The knowledge that we seek Am I truly this weak? Or am I strong Stronger than the throng Of rushing emotion Rising, rising, rising… then subsiding
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 mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired 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!
-Lord Byron
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