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. Tell Me Not Things Past All Belief
2. Idle Words
3. Twenty Years Hence My Eyes May Grow
4. Various the Roads of Life; in One
5. She I Love

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