Send some poems to a friend - the love thought that counts!
Poems for the People   -  Poems by the People

Passions in PoetryLines Written Beneath an Elm in the Churchyard of Harrow
by Lord George Gordon Byron

 

 Your Response Panel

Friend

Email this poem to a Friend (or yourself)

eCard

Create a Greeting Card for a Friend

Vote

Vote for this Poem (see comments below the poem)

Print

Display a Printable web page with this poem
Resources Submit an Article, Link or Note about this Poem

 

Love Poems
Sad Poems
Friendship Poems
Poems on Life
Poetry Buffet
Read the latest Passionate News and discover what's happening in the world of poetry.If you have a question, we probably have the answer in our Frequently Asked Questions section
Every Resident Poet gets their own page, listing all their published worksLearn how to sell your poetry to the magazine or book markets
Links to some of the BEST Poetry sites on the Net!Search our huge database of poems for that special word or phrase
Instant Gratification - and thousands more poems! Join our growing community.You, too, can have your poetry showcased to the world!
Full list of ALL our poetry categories
Learn to write better poetry in our Learning Center!
Browse or send a poem from the classical Masters of poetry
Mix beautiful art with our poetry, and send the results to that special someone in your life
Passions in Poetry Home > All Poems > Classic Poetry > Lord George Gordon Byron > Lines, On Hearing That Lady Byron Was Ill Lines, On Hearing That Lady Byron Was Ill
Lord George Gordon Byron
Poetry | Biography
Lines Written Beneath an Elm in the Churchyard of Harrow
by Lord George Gordon Byron

Spot of my youth! whose hoary branches sigh,
Swept by the breeze that fans thy cloudless sky;
Where now alone I muse, who oft have trod,
With those I loved, thy soft and verdant sod;
With those who, scattered far, perchance deplore,
Like me, the happy scenes they knew before:
Oh! as I trace again thy winding hill,
Mine eyes admire, my heart adores thee still,
Thou drooping Elm! beneath whose boughs I lay,
And frequent mused the twilight hours away;
Where, as they once were wont, my limbs recline,
But ah! without the thoughts which then were mine.
How do thy branches, moaning to the blast,
Invite the bosom to recall the past,
And seem to whisper, as the gently swell,
"Take, while thou canst, a lingering, last farewell!"

When fate shall chill, at length, this fevered breast,
And calm its cares and passions into rest,
Oft have I thought, 'twould soothe my dying hour, -
If aught may soothe when life resigns her power, -
To know some humbler grave, some narrow cell,
Would hide my bosom where it loved to dwell.
With this fond dream, methinks, 'twere sweet to die -
And here it lingered, here my heart might lie;
Here might I sleep, where all my hopes arose,
Scene of my youth, and couch of my repose;
For ever stretched beneath this mantling shade,
Pressed by the turf where once my childhood played;
Wrapped by the soil that veils the spot I loved,
Mixed with the earth o'er which my footsteps moved;
Blest by the tongues that charmed my youthful ear,
Mourned by the few my soul acknowledged here;
Deplored by those in early days allied,
And unremembered by the world beside.

 

Submission Notes: None

Classic Home > Lord George Gordon Byron >> Lines, On Hearing That Lady Byron Was Ill Lines, On Hearing That Lady Byron Was Ill
If you have written a paper about this poem or poet, you can submit it for possible publication with our other Resources.

Submit paper about Lines Written Beneath an Elm in the Churchyard of Harrow

Submit paper about Lord George Gordon Byron

Passions in Poetry

Top | All Poems | About Passions in Poetry | Your Privacy | Email Us
All poetry is copyright by the individual authors.
All other material on this web site, unless otherwise noted, is
Copyright 1998 - 2017 by Ron Carnell and Passions in Poetry.