Allogy on Therese Lord Byron. The loved one is dead and the herd is real. It would be too painful to go and look upon the grave, but at least the memories remain of the best of times, which were not marred by having watched the slow deterioration of a body. Perhaps in this way the loveliness lives on. Allogy on Therese Lord Byron. And thou art dead as young and fair as ought of mortal birth and form so soft and charm so rare to soon return to earth. The earth received them in her bed and or the spot the crowd may tread in carelessness or mirth. There is an eye which could not brook a moment on that grave to look. I will not ask where the liest, loveliness, and gaze upon the spot, their flowers or weeds that will may grow so I behold them not. It is enough for me to prove that what I love them on must love, my common earth cannot. To me that needs no stone to tell, to nothing that I loved so well. Yet did I love thee to the last as furtently as thou, who did not change through all the past and can't snott all to now. The love where death has set his seal nor age can chill nor rivals steel nor false who disobey. And what were worse thou can't snott see or while more change or fault in me. The better days of life were hours the worst can be but mine. The sun that cheers the storm that lowers shall never more be thine. The silence of that dreamless sleep I envy now too much to reap nor need I to repime that all those charms have passed away. I might have watched through long decay. The flower and ripened the bloom unmatched must fall the earliest prey. Though by no hand untimely snatched the leaves must rock away and yet it were a greater grief to watch it withering leaf by leaf, then see it plucked to day. Since earthly eye but ill can bear to trace the change to foul from fair. I know not if I could have borne to see thy beauty's fade, the night that followed such a mourn had worn a deeper shade. Thy day without a cloud have passed and thou were lovely to the last. Extinguished not decayed has stars that shoot along the sky shun brightest as they fall from high. As once I went if I could reap my tears might well be shared to think I was not near to keep one vigil or thy bad. To gaze how fondly on thy face to fold thee in a faint embrace uphold thy drooping head and show that love, however vain, nor thou nor I can feel again. Yet how much less it were to be, though thou hast left me fee the loveliest things that still remain than thus remember thee. The all of thine that cannot die through dark and dready turnity returns again to me. And more by buried loving-dears than ought except its living years.