Mild Is The Parting Year

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 : Mother, I Cannot Mind My Wheel
• Walter Savage Landor : Of Clementina
• Walter Savage Landor : On An Eclipse Of The Moon
• Walter Savage Landor : On Catullus
• Walter Savage Landor : On His Eightieth Birthday
• Walter Savage Landor : On His Seventy-fifth Birthday
• Walter Savage Landor : One Lovely Name
• Walter Savage Landor : Proud Word You Never Spoke
• Walter Savage Landor : Remain!
• Walter Savage Landor : Resignation

Previous 10 Poems

• 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
• Walter Savage Landor : Ianthe! You Are Call'd To Cross The Sea
• Walter Savage Landor : Ianthe
• Walter Savage Landor : I Strove With None
• Walter Savage Landor : I Entreat You, Alfred Tennyson
• Walter Savage Landor : God Scatters Beauty
• Walter Savage Landor : Fsulan Idyl