Oh, 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.
About the headline (FAQ)
Confirmed with Palgrave, Francis T., The Golden Treasury, London: Macmillan, 1875.
- by George Gordon Noel Byron, Lord Byron (1788 - 1824), "All for love" [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)
- by Rick Sowash (b. 1950), "The days of our glory", 1977. [baritone and piano] [ sung text verified 1 time]
Researcher for this text: Paul Ezust [Guest Editor]
This text was added to the website: 2017-10-21
Line count: 16
Word count: 165