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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=396195" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Stanzas Written On The Road Between Florence And Pisa</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=396195" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Oh, talk not to me of a name great in story;<br>The days of our youth are the days of our glory;<br>And the myrtle and ivy of sweet two-and-twenty<br>Are worth all your laurels, though ever so plenty.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=396195" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">What are garlands and crowns to the brow that is wrinkled?<br>'Tis but as a dead flower with May-dew besprinkled:<br>Then away with all such from the head that is hoary!<br>What care I for the wreaths that can only give glory?</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=396195" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">O Fame!—if I e'er took delight in thy praises,<br>'Twas less for the sake of thy high-sounding phrases,<br>Than to see the bright eyes of the dear one discover<br>She thought that I was not unworthy to love her.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=396195" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">There chiefly I sought thee, there only I found thee;<br>Her glance was the best of the rays that surround thee;<br>When it sparkled o'er aught that was bright in my story,<br>I knew it was love, and I felt it was glory.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Byron">Byron</a></strong></div>