…from the quills of dead white poets
Lord Byron (1788 – 1824)
(From “Hebrew Melodies”)
Whose tearful beam glows tremulously far,
That show’st the darkness thou canst not dispel,
How like art thou to Joy remembered well!
So gleams the past, the light of other days,
Which shines but warms not with its powerless rays:
A night-beam Sorrow watcheth to behold,
Distinct, but distant – clear – but, oh, how cold!