On Himself

I strove with none, for none was worth my strife;
Nature I lovd, and next to Nature, Art;
I warmd both hands before the fire of life;
It sinks, and I am ready to depart.

Walter Savage Landor

Walter Savage Landor was an English writer, poet, and dramatist. He is best known for his prose work, the 'Imaginary Conversations,' but also wrote numerous poems and plays. Landor had a tempestuous character and often found himself in conflict with authorities and contemporaries. Despite his combative nature, he was highly regarded by other literary figures such as Charles Dickens and Robert Browning. His works reflect his classical education and strong individualism.

Walter Savage Landor

The Poet Who Sleeps

Walter Savage Landor, Simple Poetry

To Zoe

Walter Savage Landor, Simple Poetry

One Lovely Name

Walter Savage Landor, Simple Poetry

Fsulan Idyl

Walter Savage Landor, Simple Poetry

English

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Finis

I strove with none, for none was worth my strife.
Nature I loved and, next to Nature, Art:
I warmd both hands before the fire of life;
It sinks, and I am ready to depart.

Walter Savage Landor

I Strove With None

I strove with none, for none was worth my strife.
Nature I loved and, next to Nature, Art:
I warm'd both hands before the fire of life;
It sinks, and I am ready to depart.

Walter Savage Landor

On His Seventy-Fifth Birthday

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.

Walter Savage Landor

Dying Speech Of An Old Philosopher

I strove with none, for none was worth my strife:
Nature I loved, and, next to Nature, Art:
I warm'd both hands before the fire of Life;
It sinks; and I am ready to depart.

Walter Savage Landor

To Wordsworth

Those who have laid the harp aside
And turn'd to idler things,
From very restlessness have tried
The loose and dusty strings.
And, catching back some favourite strain,
Run with it o'er the chords again.

But Memory is not a Muse,
O Wordsworth! though 'tis said
They all descend from her, and use
To haunt her fountain-head:
That other men should work for me
In the rich mines of Poesie,
Pleases me better than the toil
Of smoothing under hardened hand,
With Attic emery and oil,
The shining point for Wisdom's wand,
Like those thou temperest 'mid the rills
Descending from thy native hills.

Without his governance, in vain
Manhood is strong, and Youth is bold
If oftentimes the o'er-piled strain
Clogs in the furnace, and grows cold

Walter Savage Landor

Quotations VI

"My thoughts are my company; I can bring them together, select them, detain them, dismiss them."

"The wise become as the unwise in the enchanted chambers of Power, whose lamps make every face the same colour."

"We often fancy that we suffer from ingratitude, while in reality we suffer from self-love."

"Goodness does not more certainly make men happy than happiness makes them good."

"Everything that looks to the future elevates human nature. Never is life so low or so little as when occupied with the present."

"Men, like nails, lose their usefulness when they lose their direction and begin to bend."

"Prose on certain occasions can bear a great deal of poetry; on the other hand, poetry sinks and swoons under a moderate weight of prose."

"Be always displeased at wha...

Walter Savage Landor