Walter Savage Landor (Уолтер Сэвидж Лэндор)

Rose Aylmer

Ah what avails the sceptred race,
  Ah what the form divine!
What every virtue, every grace!
  Rose Aylmer, all were thine.
Rose Aylmer, whom these wakeful eyes
  May weep, but never see,
A night of memories and of sighs
  I consecrate to thee.

1. Twenty Years Hence My Eyes May Grow
2. With Rosy Hand a Little Girl Prest Down
3. Yes; I Write Verses Now and Then
4. Well I Remember How You Smiled
5. The Poet Who Sleeps

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