Author Walter Savage Landor Deep forests hide the stoutest oaks; Hazels make sticks for market-folks; He who comes soon to his estate Dies poor; the rich heir is the late. Sere ivy shaded Shakespeare's brow; But Matho is a poet now. Tags Short Poems Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments