Poem by Walter Savage Landor

* * *

MOTHER, I cannot mind my wheel;
    My fingers ache, my lips are dry: 
Oh! if you felt the pain I feel!
    But Oh, who ever felt as I?

No longer could I doubt him true;
    All other men may use deceit: 
He always said my eyes were blue,
    And often swore my lips were sweet. 

1. The Poet Who Sleeps
2. Idle Words
3. Tell Me Not Things Past All Belief
4. She I Love
5. Ternissa! You Are Fled!

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