There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in its roar:
I love not man the less, but Nature more,
From these our interviews, in which I steal
From all I may be, or have been before,
To mingle with the Universe, and feel
What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.
More verses by George Gordon Byron
- When We Two Parted
- She Walks In Beauty
- To Mr. Murray (For Oxford And For Waldegrave)
- To Mr. Murray (Strahan, Tonson Lintot Of The Times)
- To The Author Of A Sonnet, Beginning, '