Walter Savage Landor

(30 January 1775 – 17 September 1864 / Warwick)

Walter Savage Landor Poems

1. Age 5/14/2015
2. She I Love (Alas in Vain!) 5/28/2015
3. Little Aglaë 4/16/2010
4. Hyperbion 4/16/2010
5. In After Time 4/16/2010
6. Lines To A Dragon Fly 4/16/2010
7. Overture 4/16/2010
8. To Sleep 4/16/2010
9. Last Lines 4/16/2010
10. Macaulay 4/16/2010
11. Verses Why Burnt 4/16/2010
12. Wrinkles 4/16/2010
13. On The Death Of M. D’ossoli And His Wife Margaret Fuller 4/16/2010
14. Plays 4/16/2010
15. How To Read Me 4/16/2010
16. Man 4/16/2010
17. Judge And Thief 4/16/2010
18. To Youth 4/16/2010
19. Soon, O Ianthe! Life Is O'Er 1/3/2003
20. To A Cyclamen 4/16/2010
21. Shakespeare And Milton 4/16/2010
22. The Death Of Artemidora 4/16/2010
23. The Hamadryad 4/16/2010
24. Theron And Zoe 4/16/2010
25. There Falls With Every Wedding Chime 4/16/2010
26. Thrasymedes And Eunoe 4/16/2010
27. For An Epitaph At Fiesole 4/16/2010
28. Farewell To Italy 4/16/2010
29. Gebir 4/16/2010
30. The Appeal 4/16/2010
31. On Lady Charles Beauclerc's Death 4/16/2010
32. The Test 4/16/2010
33. Ianthe! You Are Call'D To Cross The Sea! 1/3/2003
34. From “myrtis” 4/16/2010
35. On The Dead 4/16/2010
36. To Ianthe 4/16/2010
37. On Music 4/16/2010
38. The Chrysolites And Rubies Bacchus Brings 1/3/2003
39. On The Conflagration Of The Po 4/16/2010
40. On The Descent Into Hell Of Ezzelino Di Napoli 4/16/2010
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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