Great Poems

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods

by George Gordon (Lord Byron)

from Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto the Fourth, Verse 178


There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society where none intrudes,
By the deep Sea, and music in its roar:
I love not Man the less, but Nature more,
From these our interviews, in which I steal
From all I may be, or have been before,
To mingle with the Universe, and feel
What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.




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