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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=116796" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>I Would I Were a Careless Child</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I would I were a careless child,<br> Still dwelling in my Highland cave,<br>Or roaming through the dusky wild,<br> Or bounding o’er the dark blue wave;<br>The cumbrous pomp of Saxon pride<br> Accords not with the freeborn soul,<br>Which loves the mountain’s craggy side,<br> And seeks the rocks where billows roll.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Fortune! Take back these cultured lands,<br> Take back this name of splendid sound!<br>I hate the touch of servile hands,<br> I hate the slaves that cringe around.<br>Place me among the rocks I love,<br> Which sound to Ocean’s wildest roar;<br>I ask but this--again to rove<br> Through scenes my youth hath known before.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Few are my years, and yet I feel<br> The world was ne’er design’d for me:<br>Ah! why do dark’ning shades conceal<br> The hour when man must cease to be?<br>A visionary scene of bliss:<br> Truth--wherefore did thy hated beam<br>Awake me to a world like this?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I loved--but those I loved are gone;<br> Had friends--my early friends are fled:<br>How cheerless feels the heart alone,<br> When all its former hopes are dead!<br>Though gay companions o’er the bowl<br> Dispel awhile the sense of ill;<br>Though pleasure stirs the maddening soul,<br> The heart--the heart--is lonely still.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">How dull! to hear the voice of those<br> Whom rank of chance, whom wealth or power,<br>Have made, though neither friends nor foes,<br> Associates of the festive hour.<br>Give me again a faithful few,<br> In years and feelings still the same,<br>And I will fly the midnight crew,<br> Where boist’rous Joy is but a name.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And woman, lovely woman! thou,<br> My hope, my comforter, my all!<br>How cold must be my bosom now,<br> When e’en thy smiles begin to pall!<br>Without a sigh would I resign<br> This busy scene of splendid woe,<br>To make that calm contentment mine,<br> Which virtue knows, or seems to know.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Fain would I fly the haunts of men-–<br> I seek to shun, not hate mankind;<br>My breast requires the sullen glen,<br> Whose gloom may suit a darken’d mind.<br>Oh! that to me the wings were given,<br> Which bear the turtle to her nest!<br>Then would I cleave the vault of Heaven,<br> To flee away, and be at rest.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Byron">Byron</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=116796" data-title="I Would I Were a Careless Child de Byron" data-description="I would I were a careless child,/ Still dwelling in my Highland cave,/Or roaming through the dusky wild,/ Or bounding o’er the dark blue wave;/The cumbrous pomp of Saxon pride/ Accords not with the freeborn soul,/Which loves the mountain’s cra..."></div>
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