Dear object of defeated care! <br />Though now of Love and thee bereft, <br />To reconcile me with despair, <br />Thing image and any tears are left. <br /> <br />'Tis said with Sorrow Time can cope; <br />But this I feel can ne'er be true: <br />For by the death?blow of my Hope <br />My Memory immortal grew. <br /> <br />Athens, January 1811.<br /><br />George Gordon Byron<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lines-written-beneath-a-picture/
