Walter Savage Landor (Уолтер Сэвидж Лэндор)
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Yes; I write verses now and then, But blunt and flaccid is my pen, No longer talkt of by young men As rather clever: In the last quarter are my eyes, You see it by their form and size; Is it not time then to be wise? Or now or never. Fairest that ever sprang from Eve! While Time allows the short reprieve, Just look at me! would you believe 'Twas once a lover? I cannot clear the five-bar gate, But, trying first its timber's state, Climb stiffly up, take breath, and wait To trundle over. Thro' gallopade I cannot swing The entangling blooms of Beauty's spring: I cannot say the tender thing, Be 't true or false, And am beginning to opine Those girls are only half-divine Whose waists yon wicked boys entwine In giddy waltz. I fear that arm above that shoulder, I wish them wiser, graver, older, Sedater, and no harm if colder And panting less. Ah! people were not half so wild In former days, when, starchly mild, Upon her high-heel'd Essex smiled The brave Queen Bess.
Walter Savage Landor’s other poems:
- Ternissa! You Are Fled!
- To Barry Cornwall
- The Gates of Fame and of the Grave
- Fiesole Idyl
- Ah What Avails the Sceptred Race
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