Written Shortly After The Marriage Of Miss Chaworth

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Hills of Annesley, bleak and barren,
  Where my thoughtless childhood stray'd,
How the northern tempests, warring,
  Howl above thy tufted shade!

Now no more, the hours beguiling,
  Former favourite haunts I see;
Now no more my Mary smiling
  Makes ye seem a heaven to me.

© George Gordon Byron