But words are things and a small drop of ink, Falling like a dew, upon a thought produces. That which makes thousands, perhaps millions think;'Tis strange, the shortest letter which man uses. Instead of speech, may form a lasting link. Of ages; to what straits old Time reduces. Frail man, when paper - even a rag like this -, Survives himself, his tomb and all that's his.
George ByronAbout author
- Author's profession: Poet
- Nationality: scottish
- Born: January 22, 1788
- Died: April 19, 1824