Walter Savage Landor

(30 January 1775 – 17 September 1864 / Warwick)

Walter Savage Landor Poems

1. She I Love (Alas in Vain!) -new- 5/28/2015
2. Age -new- 5/14/2015
3. Verses Why Burnt 4/16/2010
4. Wrinkles 4/16/2010
5. Lines To A Dragon Fly 4/16/2010
6. Little Aglaë 4/16/2010
7. Macaulay 4/16/2010
8. In After Time 4/16/2010
9. Myrtis 4/16/2010
10. On Lady Charles Beauclerc's Death 4/16/2010
11. On Living Too Long 4/16/2010
12. On Lucretia Borgia’s Hair 4/16/2010
13. On Music 4/16/2010
14. On The Conflagration Of The Po 4/16/2010
15. On The Dead 4/16/2010
16. On The Death Of M. D’ossoli And His Wife Margaret Fuller 4/16/2010
17. On The Descent Into Hell Of Ezzelino Di Napoli 4/16/2010
18. Overture 4/16/2010
19. Plays 4/16/2010
20. Shakespeare And Milton 4/16/2010
21. The Appeal 4/16/2010
22. The Death Of Artemidora 4/16/2010
23. The Test 4/16/2010
24. There Falls With Every Wedding Chime 4/16/2010
25. Theron And Zoe 4/16/2010
26. The Hamadryad 4/16/2010
27. Thrasymedes And Eunoe 4/16/2010
28. To A Cyclamen 4/16/2010
29. To Sleep 4/16/2010
30. Lately Our Poets 1/3/2003
31. Finis 1/4/2003
32. Twenty Years Hence 1/3/2003
33. The Dragon-Fly 1/3/2003
34. Resignation 1/4/2003
35. Why, Why Repine 1/3/2003
36. What News 1/3/2003
37. Verse 1/3/2003
38. Corinna, From Athens, To Tanagra 1/3/2003
39. Soon, O Ianthe! Life Is O'Er 1/3/2003
40. Mild Is The Parting Year 1/3/2003
Best Poem of Walter Savage Landor

You Smiled, You Spoke, And I Believed

You smiled, you spoke, and I believed,
By every word and smile deceived.
Another man would hope no more;
Nor hope I what I hoped before:
But let not this last wish be vain;
Deceive, deceive me once again!

Read the full of You Smiled, You Spoke, And I Believed

Lately Our Poets

Lately our poets loiter'd in green lanes,
Content to catch the ballads of the plains;
I fancied I had strength enough to climb
A loftier station at no distant time,
And might securely from intrusion doze
Upon the flowers thro' which Ilissus flows.
In those pale olive grounds all voices cease,
And from afar dust fills the paths of Greece.
My sluber broken and my doublet torn,

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