Poem by Walter Savage Landor

Idle Words

They say that every idle word
Is numbered by the Omniscient Lord.
O Parliament! 'tis well that He
Endureth for Eternity,
And that a thousand Angels wait
To write them at thy inner gate.

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

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