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Walter Savage Landor

Walter Savage Landor

Proud Word You Never Spoke

Proud word you never spoke, but you will speak
Four not exempt from pride some future day.
Resting on one white hand a warm wet cheek,
Over my open volume you will say,
'This man loved me’—then rise and trip away.

#Romantic

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Other works by Walter Savage Landor...
Loss of Memory

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Ianthe! You are Call’d to Cross the Sea

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Plays

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On, for the spirit of that matchle… Whom Nature led throughout her wh… While he embodied breathed etheria… Though panting in the play—hour of… I drank of Avon too, a dangerous…
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Life (priest and poet say) is but… I wish no happier one than to be l… Beneath some cool syringa’s scente… Or wavy willow, by the running str… Brimful of Moral, where the Drago…
The Death of Socrates, by Jacques-Louis David
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I strove with none, for none was w… Nature I loved, and, next to Natu… I warm’d both hands before the fir… It sinks; and I am ready to depar…
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On Lady Charles Beauclerc's Death

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A Critic

With much ado you fail to tell The requisites for writing well; But, what bad writing is, you quit… Have proved by every line you writ…
The Maid’s Lament

I loved him not; and yet, now he i… I feel I am alone. I check’d him while he spoke; yet,… Alas! I would not check. For reasons not to love him once…
Autumn

MILD is the parting year, and sw… 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 glo…
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YES; I write verses now and then… But blunt and flaccid is my pen, No longer talk’d of by young men As rather clever; In the last quarter are my eyes,



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