Brown Penny

I whispered, "I am too young,"

And then, "I am old enough;" 

Wherefore I threw a penny 

To find out if I might love. 

"Go and love, go and love, young man, 

If the lady be young and fair." 

Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny, 

I am looped in the loops of her hair. 

O love is the crooked thing, 

There is nobody wise enough 

To find out all that is in it, 

For he would be thinking of love 

Till the stars had run away 

And the shadows eaten the moon. 

Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny, 

One cannot begin it too soon.

Note: The poet starts by wondering if there's a right age for love, so he flips a coin and takes a chance. He says that no one knows all that is involved in Love, it'll take more than a lifetime to understand it, so one just has to take a risk.

Death Be Not Proud (Holy Sonnet 10)

Death be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for, thou art not so,
For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.

From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones, and souls deliverie.

Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better then thy stroake; why swell'st thou then;

One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And Death shall be no more, death thou shalt die!

Earth Is Enough

We men of Earth have here the stuff

Of Paradise - we have enough!
We need no other stones to build
The Temple of the Unfulfilled -
No other ivory for the doors -
No other marble for the floors -
No other cedar for the beam
And dome of man's immortal dream.

Here on the paths of every-day -
Here on the common human way
Is all the stuff the gods would take
To build a Heaven, to mold and make
New Edens. Ours is the stuff sublime
To build Eternity in time!

Preparedness

For all your days prepare, 

And meet them ever alike:
When you are the anvil, bear—
When you are the hammer, strike.

She Walks in Beauty

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

Note: By one account, while at a ball, Byron happened upon Mrs. John Wilmot, his cousin by marriage. He was struck by her unusual beauty, and the next morning the poem was written. She was in mourning, wearing a black dress set with spangles, which would explain the opening lines;
“She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies ”
However, Nathan, in his reminiscences of Byron, indicates that the subject of the poem may have been Byron's half-sister, Augusta. (Source)

Sonnet 1

From fairest creatures we desire increase, 

That thereby beauty's rose might never die,
But as the riper should by time decease,
His tender heir might bear his memory:
But thou, contracted to thine own bright eyes,
Feed'st thy light's flame with self-substantial fuel,
Making a famine where abundance lies,
Thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel.
Thou that art now the world's fresh ornament
And only herald to the gaudy spring,
Within thine own bud buriest thy content
And, tender churl, makest waste in niggarding.

Pity the world, or else this glutton be,

To eat the world's due, by the grave and thee.

Note: This sonnet is for a male friend of his who is apparently very good looking. He implores him to procreate so that his beauty lives on for others to enjoy instead of creating "a famine where abundance lies". This man is his own enemy and doesn't take hold of the opportunity while he still has his youth and his hoarding his gifts. He should pity this world and let it have some of his beauty or like the grave consumes all he is also 'eating' what is due to the world. For more details, see here.

When You Are Old

When you are old and grey and full of sleep, 

And nodding by the fire, take down this book, 

And slowly read, and dream of the soft look 

Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep; 

How many loved your moments of glad grace,

And loved your beauty with love false or true, 

But one man loved the pilgrim Soul in you, 

And loved the sorrows of your changing face; 

And bending down beside the glowing bars, 

Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled 

And paced upon the mountains overhead 

And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

Note: The poet is trying to impress upon the woman that while people love her for her outward graces and beauty, he is the only one who loves her for who she is. He doesn't want her to regret not growing old together. Here's an analysis.