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.
She Sat Alone Beside Her Hearth
SHE sat alone beside her hearth— For many nights alone; She slept not on the pleasant couch
The Fairy Of The Fountains
WHY did she love her mother's so? It hath wrought her wondrous wo.
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.
Nymph And Zephyr: A Statuary Group. By W...
AND the summer sun shone in the sky, And the rose's whole life was in its sigh, When her eyelids were kiss'd by a morning beam,
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!
Portrait Of A Lady. By Sir Thomas Lawren...
LADY , thy lofty brow is fair, Beauty's sign and seal are there; And thy lip is like the rose Closing round the bee's repose;
GATHER her raven hair in one rich cluster, Let the white champac light it, as a star Gives to the dusky night a sudden lustre,
Thoughts Of Christmas-Day In India
IT is Christmas, and the sunshine Lies golden on the fields, And flowers of white and purple Yonder fragrant creeper yields.
Cafes In Damascus
LANGUIDLY the night-wind bloweth From the gardens round, Where the clear Barrada floweth With a lulling sound.
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
The current cold and deadly to the heart.
Anger and fear are in them; grief and joy
Are on their sound; yet slight, impalpable:--
A word is but a breath of passing air.