For an Epitaph at Fiesole
LO! where the four mimosas blend their shade
In calm repose at last is Landor laid;
For ere he slept he saw them planted here
By her his soul had ever held most dear,
And he had liv’d enough when he had dried her tear.
poem by Walter Savage Landor
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Rose Aylmer
Ah, what avails the sceptred race!
Ah, what the form divine!
What every virtue, every grace!
Rose Aylmer, all were thine.
Rose Aylmer, whom these wakeful eyes
May weep, but never see,
A night of memories and sighs
I consecrate to thee.
poem by Walter Savage Landor
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Rose Aylmer
Ah what avails the sceptred race,
Ah what the form divine!
What every virtue, every grace!
Rose Aylmer, all were thine.
Rose Aylmer, whom these wakeful eyes
May weep, but never see,
A night of memories and of sighs
I consecrate to thee.
poem by Walter Savage Landor
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
How to Read Me
TO turn my volumes o’er nor find
(Sweet unsuspicious friend!)
Some vestige of an erring mind
To chide or discommend,
Believe that all were lov’d like you
With love from blame exempt,
Believe that all my griefs were true
And all my joys but dreamt.
poem by Walter Savage Landor
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Little Aglaë
To Her Father, on Her Statue Being Called Like Her
FATHER! the little girl we see
Is not, I fancy, so like me;
You never hold her on your knee.
When she came home, the other day,
You kiss’d her; but I cannot say
She kiss’d you first and ran away.
poem by Walter Savage Landor
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
I Wander O'er The Sandy Heath
I wander o'er the sandy heath
Where the white rush waves high,
Where adders close before me wreath
And tawny kites sail screaming by.
Alone I wander; I alone
Could love to wander there;
'But wherefore!' let my church-yard stone
Look toward Tawy and declare.
poem by Walter Savage Landor
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Evening Star
Smiles soon abate; the boisterous throes
Of anger long burst forth;
Inconstantly the south-wind blows,
But steadily the north.
Thy star, O Venus! often changes
Its radiant seat above,
The chilling pole-star never ranges --
'Tis thus with Hate and Love.
poem by Walter Savage Landor
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Who Ever Felt as I?
Mother, I cannot mind my wheel;
My fingers ache, my lips are dry:
Oh! if you felt the pain I feel!
But oh, who ever felt as I?
No longer could I doubt him true;
All other men may use deceit:
He always said my eyes were blue,
And often swore my lips were sweet.
poem by Walter Savage Landor
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Ianthe's Question
‘Do you remember me? or are you proud?’
Lightly advancing thro’ her star-trimm’d crowd,
Ianthe said, and look’d into my eyes.
‘A yes, a yes to both: for Memory
Where you but once have been must ever be,
And at your voice Pride from his throne must rise.’
poem by Walter Savage Landor
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Plays
ALAS, how soon the hours are over
Counted us out to play the lover!
And how much narrower is the stage
Allotted us to play the sage!
But when we play the fool, how wide
The theatre expands! beside,
How long the audience sits before us!
How many prompters! what a chorus!
poem by Walter Savage Landor
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!