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Contemplative, Walter Savage Landor, in English Clear filters

ContemplativeWalter Savage Landor

Autumn

MILD is the parting year, and sweet The odour of the falling spray; Life passes on more rudely fleet, And balmless is its closing day. I wait its close, I court its gloom, But mourn that never must there fall Or on my breast or on my tomb The tear that would have soothed it all.
ContemplativeWalter Savage Landor

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.
ContemplativeWalter Savage Landor

Soon, O Ianthe! life is o'er

Soon, O Ianthe! life is o'er, And sooner beauty's heavenly smile: Grant only (and I ask no more), Let love remain that little while.
ContemplativeWalter Savage Landor

On His Seventy-fifth Birthday

I strove with none, for none was worth my strife; Nature I loved, and next to Nature, Art; I warmed both hands before the fire of Life; It sinks, and I am ready to depart.
ContemplativeWalter Savage Landor

On His Eightieth Birthday

To my ninth decade I have tottered on, And no soft arm bends now my steps to steady; She, who once led me where she would, is gone, So when he calls me, Death shall find me ready.

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