Poem#Nature
In spring and summer winds may blow
Poem byWalter Savage Landor · 1775–1864
Commonly attributed — not confirmed in an authoritative edition. Text from PoetryDB's public-domain archive; not yet checked against a printed edition.
English (original)
In spring and summer winds may blow, And rains fall after, hard and fast; The tender leaves, if beaten low, Shine but the more for shower and blast But when their fated hour arrives, When reapers long have left the field, When maidens rifle turn'd-up hives, And their last juice fresh apples yield, A leaf perhaps may still remain Upon some solitary tree, Spite of the wind and of the rain . . . A thing you heed not if you see. At last it falls. Who cares? Not one: And yet no power on earth can ever Replace the fallen leaf upon Its spray, so easy to dissever. If such be love, I dare not say. Friendship is such, too well I know: I have enjoyed my summer day; 'Tis past; my leaf now lies below.
— Walter Savage Landor
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One lovely name adorns my song, And, dwelling in the heart, Forever falters at the tongue, And trembles to depart.
On His Eightieth Birthday
To my ninth decade I have tottered on, And no soft arm bends now my steps to steady; She, who once led me where she would, is gone, So when he calls me, Death shall find me ready.
On an Eclipse of the Moon
Struggling, and faint, and fainter didst thou wane, O Moon! and round thee all thy starry train Came forth to help thee, with half-open eyes, And trembled every one with still surprise,