Poem by Walter Savage Landor

* * *

      Death stands above me, whispering low
        I know not what into my ear:
      Of his strange language all I know
        Is, there is not a word of fear.

1. Corinna, from Athens, to Tanagra
2. Soon, O Ianthe! Life Is O'er
3. Dirce
4. Past Ruin'd Ilion Helen Lives
5. Tell Me Not Things Past All Belief

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