The Oxford Dictionary of Quotations Preface

‘Ode to Napoleon Bonaparte’ (1814) st. 19 (of George Washington)
It is not in the storm nor in the strife
We feel benumbed, and wish to be no more,
But in the after-silence on the shore,
When all is lost, except a little life.
‘On hearing that Lady Byron was ill’ (published 1832)
My days are in the yellow leaf;
The flowers and fruits of love are gone;
The worm, the canker, and the grief
Are mine alone!
‘On This Day I Complete my Thirty-Sixth Year’ (1824).
My hair is grey, but not with years,
Nor grew it white
In a single night,
As men’s have grown from sudden fears.
‘The Prisoner of Chillon’ (1816) st. 1
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
‘She Walks in Beauty’ (1815) st. 1
Born in the garret, in the kitchen bred,
Promoted thence to deck her mistress’ head.
‘A Sketch from Private Life’ (1816)
Eternal spirit of the chainless mind!
Brightest in dungeons, Liberty! thou art.
‘Sonnet on Chillon’ (1816)
So, we’ll go no more a roving
So late into the night,
Though the heart be still as loving,
And the moon be still as bright.
‘So we’ll go no more a-roving’ (written 1817, published 1830)
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.
‘Stanzas Written on the Road between Florence and Pisa’ November 1821
I knew it was love, and I felt it was glory.