Poem by Walter Savage Landor

* * *

Proud word you never spoke, but you will speak
  Four not exempt from pride some future day.
Resting on one white hand a warm wet cheek
  Over my open volume you will say,
'This man loved me!' then rise and trip away.

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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