The Clopton Chronicles

A Project of the Clopton Family Genealogical Society

ALL FOR LOVE

By Lord George Gordon Noel Byron

O talk not to me of a name great in story;

The days of our youth are the days of our glory;

And the myrtle and ivy of sweet two-and-twenty

Are worth all your laurels, though ever so plenty.

What are garlands and crowns to the brow that is wrinkled?

Tis but as a dead flower with May-dew besprinkled:

Then away with all such from the head that is hoary –

What care I for the wreaths that can only give glory?

O Fame! If I e’er took delight in they praises,

‘Twas less for the sake of thy high-sounding phrases,

Than to see the bright eyes of the dear one discover

She thought that I was not unworthy to love her.

There chiefly I sought thee, there only I found thee;

Her glance was the best of the rays that surround thee;

When it sparkled o’er aught that was bright in my story,

I knew it was love, and I felt it was glory.

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