06 ALL FOR LOVE

By George Gordon，Lord Byron

O TALK not to me of a name great in story；

The days of our youth are the days of our glory；

And the myrtle and ivy of sweet two-and-twenty

Are worth all your laurels，though ever so plenty．

What are garlands and crowns to the brow that is wrinkled？

'tis but as a dead flower with May-dew besprinkled：

Then away with all such from the head that is hoary—

What care I for the wreaths that can only give glory？

Oh Fame！—if I e’er took delight in thy praises，

'twas less for the sake of thy high-sounding phrases，

Than to see the bright eyes of the dear one discover

She thought that I was not unworthy to love her．

There chiefly I sought thee，there only I found thee；

Her glance was the best of the rays that surround thee；

When it sparkled o'er aught that was bright in my story，

I knew it was love，and I felt it was glory．