Poems by Walter Savage Landor

Poems by Walter Savage Landor

She I Love (Alas in Vain!),by Walter Savage Landor

She I love (alas in vain!)
Floats before my slumbering eyes:
When she comes she lulls my pain,...

To E. F., by Walter Savage Landor

No doubt thy little bosom beats
When sounds a wedding bell,
No doubt it pants to taste the swe...

To Charles Dickens, by Walter Savage Landor

Go then to Italy; but mind
To leave the pale low France behind;
Pass through that country, no...

To Barry Cornwall, by Walter Savage Landor

Barry! Your spirit long ago
Has haunted me; at last I know
The heart it sprung from: one more s...

There are Some Wishes that may Start, by Walter Savage Landor

There are some wishes that may start
Nor cloud the brow nor sting the heart.
Gladly then would ...

Thank Heaven, Ianthe, Once Again, by Walter Savage Landor

Thank Heaven, Ianthe, once again
Our hands and ardent lips shall meet,
And Pleasure, to ass...

Ternissa! You are Fled!, by Walter Savage Landor

Ternissa! You are fled!
I say not to the dead,
But to the happy ones who rest below:
For, s...

Tell Me Not Things Past all Belief, by Walter Savage Landor

Tell me not things past all belief;
One truth in you I prove;
The flame of anger, bright and...

Pursuits! Alas, I Now Have None, by Walter Savage Landor

Pursuits! Alas, I now have none,
But idling where were once pursuits,
Often, all morning qu...

Pleasure! Why thus Desert the Heart, by Walter Savage Landor

Pleasure! Why thus desert the heart
In its spring-tide?
I could have seen her, I could part,
...

The Poet who Sleeps, by Walter Savage Landor

One day, when I was young, I read
About a poet, long since dead,
Who fell asleep, as poets...

Proud Word You Never Spoke, but You Will Speak, by Walter Savage Landor

Proud word you never spoke, but you will speak
Four not exempt from pride some future day.
Res...

The Torch of Love Dispels the Gloom, by Walter Savage Landor

The torch of Love dispels the gloom
Of life, and animates the tomb;
But never let it idly fla...

Rose Aylmer, by Walter Savage Landor

Ah, what avails the sceptred race!
Ah, what the form divine!
What every virtue, every grace!...

A Sea-Shell Speaks, by Walter Savage Landor

Of late among the rocks I lay,
But just behind the fretful spray,
When suddenly a step drew n...