Stanzas

Could Love for ever
Run like a river,
And Time's endeavor
Be tried in vain -
No other pleasure
With this could measure,
And like a treasure
We'd hug the chain.

But since our sighing
Ends not in dying,
And, formed for flying,
Love plumes his wing;
Then for this reason
Let's love a season;
But let that season
Be only Spring.



When lovers parted
Feel broken-hearted,
And, all hopes thwarted,
Expect to die;
A few years older,
Ah! how much colder
They might behold her
For whom they sigh!

When linked together,
In every weather,
They pluck Love's feather
From out his wing -
He'll stay for ever,
But sadly shiver
Without his plumage,
When past the Spring.



Wait not, fond lover!
Till years are over,
And then recover,
As from a dream.
While each bewailing
The other's failing,
With wrath and railing,
All hideous seem -

While first decreasing,
Yet not quite ceasing,
Wait not till teasing
All passion blight:
If once diminished
Love's reign is finished -
Then part in friendship, -
And bid good-night.



So shall Affection
To recollection
The dear connection
Bring back with joy:
You had not waited
Till, tired or hated,
Your passions sated
Began to cloy.

Your last embraces
Leave no cold traces -
The same fond faces
As through the past;
And eyes, the mirrors
Of your sweet errors,
Reflect but rapture -
Not least though last.



True, separations
Ask more than patience;
What desperations
From such have risen!
But yet remaining,
What is't but chaining
Hearts which, once waning,
Beat 'gainst their prison?

Time can but cloy love,
And use destroy love:
The winged boy, Love,
Is but for boys -
You'll find it torture
Though sharper, shorter,
To wean and not
Wear out your joys.



----- George Gordon, Lord Byron [1788-1824]