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Lord Byron and his Times: http://lordbyron.org
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We have much to say to you, gentle Correspondents, but we must devise a new mode
of address, now that our
how sweet when winter, o’er the yarrow rocks,hangs his pale banner, and the speary woodgroans to the blast, as if in mustering mood—and on the far bear hills pine the sad flocks—when the unseen ice-queen all the torrents locks,and with fantastic spray-work plays her pranksalong saint mary’s lake and eltrive’s banks,and, with cold glittering buds and leaflets, mocksthe warm and lovely summer—oh! how sweet—(now one moon more hath waned like a dream,and man is half-forgotten)—come the feetof thy kind messenger!—thy wizard gleamflashes the world on the lone bard’s retreat,and life is in my ears like a loud stream.