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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=396133" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Lines Written Beneath A Picture</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Dear object of defeated care!<br>Though now of Love and thee bereft,<br>To reconcile me with despair,<br>Thing image and any tears are left.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Tis said with Sorrow Time can cope; <br>But this I feel can ne'er be true:<br>For by the death?blow of my Hope<br>My Memory immortal grew.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Athens, January 1811.</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=396133" data-title="Lines Written Beneath A Picture de Byron" data-description="Dear object of defeated care!
Though now of Love and thee bereft,
To reconcile me with despair,
Thing image and any tears are left.

'Tis said with Sorrow Time can cope; 
But this I feel can ne'er be true:
For by the death?blow of my Hope
My Memor..."></div>
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