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. 

Added: Apr 8 2005 | Viewed: 495 times | Comments (0)

Poet: Walter Savage Landor
Poem: The Evening Star

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