When, from the heart where Sorrow sits, <br />Her dusky shadow mounts too high, <br />And o'er the changing aspect flits, <br />And clouds the brow, or fills the eye; <br />Heed not that gloom, which soon shall sink: <br />My thoughts their dungeon know too well; <br />Back to my breast the wanderers shrink, <br />And droop within their silent cell.<br /><br />George Gordon Byron<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/impromptu-in-reply-to-a-friend/
