I don’t know why, I’m just feeling really classic lately… So here’s some Byron for your reading pleasure.
I have to say, I find it rather funny that he was praising her purity and innocence, given his own reputation for being “Mad, bad, and dangerous to know.” Certainly says something about human nature, doesn’t it? How often do we admire traits in others that we don’t find in ourselves…
When I read this poem, I always try to imagine his thoughts when he wrote it. Some days, I imagine him feeling wistful, shamed by her innocence. Other days I picture him reveling in their differences, enjoying the stark contrast of her purity against his worldliness.
And some days I imagine him hammering out a poem because he has publishers breathing down his neck.