I LOVED him not; and yet now he is gone, I feel I am alone. I check'd him while he spoke; yet, could he speak, Alas! I would not check. For reasons not to love him once I sought, And wearied all my thought To vex myself and him; I now would give My love, could he but live Who lately lived for me, and when he found 'Twas vain, in holy ground He hid his face amid the shades of death. I waste for him my breath Who wasted his for me; but mine returns, And this lorn bosom burns With stifling heat, heaving it up in sleep, And waking me to weep Tears that had melted his soft heart: for years Wept he as bitter tears. 'Merciful God!' such was his latest prayer, 'These may she never share!' Quieter is his breath, his breast more cold Than daisies in the mould, Where children spell, athwart the churchyard gate, His name and life's brief date. Pray for him, gentle souls, whoe'er you be, And, O, pray too for me! Walter Savage Landor. 1775-1864 558. Rose Aylmer AH, what avails the sceptred race! Ah, what the form divine! What every virtue, every grace! Rose Aylmer, all were thine. Rose Aylmer, whom these wakeful eyes May weep, but never see, A night of memories and sighs I consecrate to thee. Walter Savage Landor. 1775-1864 559. Ianthe FROM you, Ianthe, little troubles pass Like little ripples down a sunny river; Your pleasures spring like daisies in the grass, Cut down, and up again as blithe as ever. Walter Savage Landor. 1775-1864 560. Twenty Years hence TWENTY years hence my eyes may grow, If not quite dim, yet rather so; Yet yours from others they shall know, Twenty years hence. Twenty years hence, though 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. Walter Savage Landor. 1775-1864 561. Verse PAST ruin'd Ilion Helen lives, Alcestis rises from the shades; Verse calls them forth; 'tis verse that gives Immortal youth to mortal maids. Soon shall Oblivion's deepening veil Hide all the peopled hills you see, The gay, the proud, while lovers hail These many summers you and me. Walter Savage Landor. 1775-1864 562. Proud Word you never spoke 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. Walter Savage Landor. 1775-1864 563. Resignation WHY, why repine, my pensive friend, At pleasures slipp'd away? Some the stern Fates will never lend, And all refuse to stay. I see the rainbow in the sky, The dew upon the grass; I see them, and I ask not why They glimmer or they pass.