Letitia Elizabeth Landon
Biography of Letitia Elizabeth Landon
Letitia Elizabeth Landon Poems
Ay, gaze upon her rose-wreathed hair, And gaze upon her smile; Seem as you drank the very air Her breath perfumed the while:
The Power Of Words
'Tis a strange mystery, the power of words! Life is in them, and death. A word can send The crimson colour hurrying to the cheek. Hurrying with many meanings; or can turn
LIFE has dark secrets; and the hearts are few That treasure not some sorrow from the world-- A sorrow silent, gloomy, and unknown, Yet colouring the future from the past.
Scenes In London I - Piccadilly
THE sun is on the crowded street, It kindles those old towers; Where England's noblest memories meet, Of old historic hours.
NEVER more, when the day is o'er, Will the lonely vespers sound; No bells are ringing—no monks are singing, When the moonlight falls around.
A Legend Of Tintagel Castle
ALONE in the forest, Sir Lancelot rode O'er the neck of his courser the reins lightly flowed And beside hung his helmet, for bare was his brow
Long Years Have Past Since Last I Stood
LONG years have past since last I stood Alone amid this mountain scene, Unlike the future which I dreamed, How like my future it has been!
The Fairy Of The Fountains
WHY did she love her mother's so? It hath wrought her wondrous wo.
WHY doth the maiden turn away From voice so sweet, and words so dear? Why doth the maiden turn away When love and flattery woo her ear?
Scenes In London Iii - The Savoyard In G...
HE stands within the silent square, That square of state, of gloom; A heavy weight is on the air, Which hangs as o'er a tomb.
Juliet After The Masquerade. By Thompson
SHE left the festival, for it seem'd dim Now that her eye no longer dwelt on him, And sought her chamber,--gazed, (then turn'd away),
Fairies On The Sea Shore. By Howard
MY home and haunt are in every leaf, Whose life is a summer day, bright and brief,--
YOUTH! thou art a lovely time, With thy wild and dreaming eyes; Looking onwards to their prime,
A Child Screening A Dove From A Hawk. By...
AY, screen thy favourite dove, fair child, Ay, screen it if you may,-- Yet I misdoubt thy trembling hand Will scare the hawk away.
LIFE has dark secrets; and the hearts are few
That treasure not some sorrow from the world--
A sorrow silent, gloomy, and unknown,
Yet colouring the future from the past.
We see the eye subdued, the practised smile,
The word well weighed before it pass the lip,
And know not of the misery within:
Yet there it works incessantly, and fears
The time to come; for time is terrible,