Poem by Walter Savage Landor

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Pleasure! why thus desert the heart
    In its spring-tide?
I could have seen her, I could part,
    And but have sigh'd!

O'er every youthful charm to stray,
    To gaze, to touch....
Pleasure! why take so much away,
    Or give so much?

1. Past Ruin'd Ilion Helen Lives
2. Rose Aylmer
3. With Rosy Hand a Little Girl Prest Down
4. Leaf after Leaf Drops off, Flower after Flower
5. The Poet Who Sleeps

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