Byron! how sweetly sad thy melody! <br />Attuning still the soul to tenderness, <br />As if soft Pity, with unusual stress, <br />Had touch'd her plaintive lute, and thou, being by, <br />Hadst caught the tones, nor suffer'd them to die. <br />O'ershadowing sorrow doth not make thee less <br />Delightful: thou thy griefs dost dress <br />With a bright halo, shining beamily, <br />As when a cloud the golden moon doth veil, <br />Its sides are ting'd with a resplendent glow, <br />Through the dark robe oft amber rays prevail, <br />And like fair veins in sable marble flow; <br />Still warble, dying swan! still tell the tale, <br />The enchanting tale, the tale of pleasing woe.<br /><br />John Keats<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-to-byron/
