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The Evening Star

The Evening Star

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.



Poem The Evening Star - Walter Savage Landor