Dear object of defeated care!
Though now of Love and thee bereft,
To reconcile me with despair,
Thing image and any tears are left.

'Tis said with Sorrow Time can cope;
But this I feel can ne'er be true:
For by the death?blow of my Hope
My Memory immortal grew.

Athens, January 1811.

George Gordon Byron

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lines-written-beneath-a-picture/