| James and Mary Ford, eds. Every Day in the Year. 1902. | | | | May 7 | | To Robert Browning | | By Walter Savage Landor (1775–1864) |
| | (Born May 7, 1812)
THERE is delight in singing, tho’ none hear | |
| Beside the singer: and there is delight | |
| In praising, tho’ the praiser sit alone | |
| And see the prais’d far off him, far above. | |
| Shakespeare is not our poet, but the world’s, | 5 |
| Therefore on him no speech! and brief for thee, | |
| Browning! Since Chaucer was alive and hale, | |
| No man hath walkt along our roads with step | |
| So active, so inquiring eye, or tongue | |
| So varied in discourse. But warmer climes | 10 |
| Give brighter plumage, stronger wing: the breeze | |
| Of Alpine heights thou playest with, borne on | |
| Beyond Sorrento and Amalfi, where | |
| The Siren waits thee, singing song for song. | | | | |
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