Autumn

Walter Savage Landor

MILD is the parting year, and sweet
The odour of the falling spray;
Life passes on more rudely fleet,
And balmless is its closing day.

I wait its close, I court its gloom,
But mourn that never must there fall
Or on my breast or on my tomb
The tear that would have soothed it all. 

Next 10 Poems

• Walter Savage Landor : Child Of A Day
• Walter Savage Landor : Corinna, From Athens, To Tanagra
• Walter Savage Landor : Death Stands Above Me
• Walter Savage Landor : Death Stands Above Me, Whispering Low
• Walter Savage Landor : Dirce
• Walter Savage Landor : Do You Remember Me? Or Are You Proud?
• Walter Savage Landor : Dying Speech Of An Old Philosopher
• Walter Savage Landor : Finis
• Walter Savage Landor : Fsulan Idyl
• Walter Savage Landor : God Scatters Beauty

Previous 10 Poems

• Walter Savage Landor : Alciphron And Leucippe
• Walter Savage Landor : Acon And Rhodope
• Walter Savage Landor : Absence
• Rudyard Kipling : Zion
• Rudyard Kipling : With Scindia To Delhi
• Rudyard Kipling : With Drake In The Tropics
• Rudyard Kipling : Wilful Missing
• Rudyard Kipling : White Seal
• Rudyard Kipling : White Horses
• Rudyard Kipling : When Earth's Last Picture Is Painted