Walter Savage Landor (Уолтер Сэвидж Лэндор)

* * *

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. Idle Words
2. A Pastoral
3. Pleasure! Why Thus Desert the Heart
4. The Gates of Fame and of the Grave
5. With Rosy Hand a Little Girl Prest Down

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