Poem by Walter Savage Landor

The Evening Star

Smiles soon abate; the boisterous throes
  Of anger long burst forth;
Inconstantly the south-wind blows,
  But steadily the north.

Thy star, O Venus! often changes
  Its radiant seat above,
The chilling pole-star never ranges --
  'Tis thus with Hate and Love.

1. Past Ruin'd Ilion Helen Lives
2. Rose Aylmer
3. The Poet Who Sleeps
4. Idle Words
5. Of Clementina

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