English poem

On Himself

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

More by Walter Savage Landor

Muza. Proceed
Of Clementina
On An Eclipse Of The Moon
On Catullus
On His Eightieth Birthday
On His Seventy-Fifth Birthday
On Living Too Long
On Lucretia Borgia's Hair

All 138 poems by Walter Savage Landor