Poem by Walter Savage Landor

* * *

Twenty years hence my eyes may grow
If not quite dim, yet rather so,
Still yours from others they shall know
                       Twenty years hence.
Twenty years hence tho' it may hap
That I be call'd to take a nap
In a cool cell where thunder-clap
                       Was never heard,
There breathe but o'er my arch of grass
A not too sadly sigh'd _Alas_,
And I shall catch, ere you can pass,
                       That winged word.

1. Past Ruin'd Ilion Helen Lives
2. Rose Aylmer
3. With Rosy Hand a Little Girl Prest Down
4. The Poet Who Sleeps
5. Idle Words

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