I would to heaven that I were so much clay,
As I am blood, bone, marrow, passion, feeling -
Because at least the past were passed away -
And for the future - (but I write this reeling,
Having got drunk exceedingly today,
So that I seem to stand upon the ceiling)
I say - the future is a serious matter -
And so - for God's sake - hock and soda water!
More verses by George Gordon Byron
- On Being Asked What Was The 'Origin Of Love'
- To Caroline: When I Hear That You Express An Affection So Warm
- To A Beautiful Quaker
- To A Youthful Friend
- When Coldness Wraps This Suffering Clay