On His Seventy-fifth Birthday

Walter Savage Landor

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. 

Next 10 Poems

• Walter Savage Landor : One Lovely Name
• Walter Savage Landor : Proud Word You Never Spoke
• Walter Savage Landor : Remain!
• Walter Savage Landor : Resignation
• Walter Savage Landor : Rose Aylmer
• Walter Savage Landor : Separation
• Walter Savage Landor : Soon, O Ianthe! Life Is O'er
• Walter Savage Landor : The Chrysolites And Rubies Bacchus Brings
• Walter Savage Landor : The Dragon-fly
• Walter Savage Landor : The Evening Star

Previous 10 Poems

• Walter Savage Landor : On His Eightieth Birthday
• Walter Savage Landor : On Catullus
• Walter Savage Landor : On An Eclipse Of The Moon
• Walter Savage Landor : Of Clementina
• Walter Savage Landor : Mother, I Cannot Mind My Wheel
• Walter Savage Landor : Mild Is The Parting Year
• Walter Savage Landor : Lately Our Poets
• Walter Savage Landor : Late Leaves
• Walter Savage Landor : In Spring And Summer Winds May Blow
• Walter Savage Landor : Ianthe's Question