Poem by Walter Savage Landor

* * *

Here, ever since you went abroad,
  If there be change, no change I see,
I only walk our wonted road,
  The road is only walkt by me.

Yes; I forgot; a change there is;
  Was it of _that_ you bade me tell?
I catch at times, at times I miss
  The sight, the tone, I know so well.

Only two months since you stood here!
  Two shortest months! then tell me why
Voices are harsher than they were,
  And tears are longer ere they dry.

1. With Rosy Hand a Little Girl Prest Down
2. Twenty Years Hence My Eyes May Grow
3. Various the Roads of Life; in One
4. To Robert Browning
5. Idle Words

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