Poem by Walter Savage Landor

Dying Speech of an Old Philosopher

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

1. With Rosy Hand a Little Girl Prest Down
2. Twenty Years Hence My Eyes May Grow
3. Various the Roads of Life; in One
4. To Robert Browning
5. Idle Words

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