On Revisiting Harrow

George Gordon Lord Byron

Here once engaged the stranger’s view
  Young Friendship’s record simply trac’d;
Few were her words,—but yet, though few,
  Resentment’s hand the line defac’d.

Deeply she cut—but not eras’d—
  The characters were still so plain,
That Friendship once return’d, and gaz’d,—
  Till Memory hail’d the words again.

Repentance plac’d them as before;
  Forgiveness join’d her gentle name;
So fair the inscription seem’d once more,
  That Friendship thought it still the same.

Thus might the Record now have been;
  But, ah, in spite of Hope’s endeavour,
Or Friendship’s tears, Pride rush’d between,
  And blotted out the line for ever.

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