I haven’t had much to say lately… and I still don’t, but I wanted to share this poem by Lord Byron… who essentially seduced me into loving poetry, and romance in general. It was Byron who, along with Beethoven, introduced me to the dark side of art… and it was from them that I learned to find a sense of beauty in sadness and pain and scars.
Beauty is, at it’s core level, both enhanced and tainted by its beholder. True beauty is never skin deep and, in a sense, like an onion… many layers deep and it will usually bring tears to your eyes… and sometimes your heart.
Anyway, I guess I did have something to say.
She Walks in Beauty
By Lord Byron (George Gordon)
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!