BYRON

THE AULD HOUSE

Lonely I wander through scenes of my childhood,

They turn back the memory of happy days of yore;

Gone are the old folk, the house stands deserted;

No life in the window, no welcome at the door.

Here's where the prisoners gazed on the heather,

Here's where the children-----

Where are they now? Some are dead, some have wandered,

No more to their home shall these children return.

Lonely the house now and lonely the woodland,

The children are scattered, the old folk are gone.

Why stand I ??? like a ghost and a shadow

The time and the moon.

 Beauty without vanity, courage without ferocity, and all the virtues of man without his vices.

Byron on his Newfoundland dog, Boatswain [Bo'sun]

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