Daily quote by Letitia Elizabeth Landon

• Unveil'd, unmask'd ! not so, not so !
  Ah ! thine are closer worn
  Than those which, in light mockery,
  One evening thou hast borne.
  The mask and veil which thou dost wear
  Are of thyself a part;
  No mask can ever hide thy face
  As that conceals thy heart.
  • The Mask
• She leant her head upon her hand : “I know not which to choose—
  Alas ! whichever choice I make, the other I must lose.”
  • The Choice
• The bride was young and beautiful, the bridegroom stern and old,—
  But the silken rein was hung with pearls, the housings bright with gold.
  • The Choice
• The wretch who on the scaffold stands
  Has some brief time allow'd
  For parting grasp of kindly hands,
  For farewell to the crowd :
  • Madeline
• Another soft and scented page,
  Fill'd with more honied words !
  What motives to a pilgrimage
  A shrine like mine affords !
  I know, before I break the seal,
  The words that I shall find:—
  • Belinda, or The Love Letter
• They say that, hung in ancient halls,
  At midnight from the silent lute
  A melancholy music falls
  From chords which were by daylight mute.
  And so the human heart by night
  Is touched by some inspired tone,
  Harmonious in the deep delight,
  By day it knew not was its own.
  • Meditation
• O beauty of the midnight skies!
  O mystery of each distant star !
  O dreaming hours, whose magic lies
  In rest and calm, with Day afar!
  Thanks for the higher moods that wake
  Our thoughtful and immortal part !—
  Out on our life, could we not make
  A spiritual temple of the heart ?
  • Meditation
• And here they met:—where should Love's meeting be —
  Love passionate, and spiritual, and deep—
  Where, but in such a haunted solitude—
  A green and natural temple—fitting shrine
  For vows the stars remember ?
  • The Last of the St. Aubyns
• Up climb'd the sweet pea,
  The butterfly of flowers:—I love it not,
  Though every hue—and it has many tints—
  Are dyed as if the sunset evening clouds
  Had fallen to the earth in sudden rain,
  And left their colours : purple, delicate pink,
  And snowy white, are on thy wing-like leaves;
  But thou art all too forward in thy bloom ;
  Thy blossoms are the sun's, and cling to all
  That can support them into open day:
  And then they die, leaving no root behind,
  The hope and promise of another spring;
  And no perfume, whose lingering gratitude
  Remains round what upheld its summer's life.
  • The Last of the St. Aubyns
• Great Heaven ! what vain beliefs
  Have stirred the pulse and led the hopes of man !
  As if that honour could be bought by blood,
  And that the fierce right hand was better worth
  Than the fine mind, and high and generous heart !—
  • The Last of the St. Aubyns