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Poem by George Gordon Byron

To Anne (Oh say not, sweet Anne, that the Fates have decreed)


Oh say not, sweet Anne, that the Fates have decreed
⁠   The heart which adores you should wish to dissever;
Such Fates were to me most unkind ones indeed,
   ⁠To bear me from Love and from Beauty for ever.


Your frowns, lovely girl, are the Fates which alone
⁠   Could bid me from fond admiration refrain;
By these, every hope, every wish were o'erthrown,
⁠   Till smiles should restore me to rapture again.


As the ivy and oak, in the forest entwin'd,
⁠   The rage of the tempest united must weather;
My love and my life were by nature design'd
   ⁠To flourish alike, or to perish together.


Then say not, sweet Anne, that the Fates have decreed
⁠   Your lover should bid you a lasting adieu:
Till Fate can ordain that his bosom shall bleed,
⁠   His Soul, his Existence, are centred in you. 

Anne - Miss Anne Houson


George Gordon Byron

George Gordon Byron's other poems:
  1. Epitaph
  2. Churchills Grave
  3. On a Change of Masters at a Great Public School
  4. Lines Addressed to a Young Lady
  5. To the Earl of Clare

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