Farewell
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.
More poems by Walter Savage Landor
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Rose Aylmer
Ah, what avails the sceptred race!
Ah, what the form divine!
What every virtue, every grace! … -
Alciphron and Leucippe
an ancient chestnut's blossoms threw
Their heavy odour over two:
Leucippe, it is said, was one; … -
Art Criticism
First bring me Raffael, who alone hath seen
In all her purity heaven’s virgin queen,
Alone hath felt true beauty; bring me then … -
Autumn
Mild is the parting year, and sweet
The odour of the falling spray;
Life passes on more rudely fleet, …