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Walter Savage Landor

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.

About the poet
Walter Savage Landor
 
By the same poet
The Maid's Lament
Ianthe
Twenty Years hence
Verse
Proud Word you never spoke
Resignation
Mother, I cannot mind my Wheel
Autumn
Remain!
Absence
Of Clementina
Ianthe's Question
On Catullus
Dirce
Alciphron and Leucippe
Years
Separation
Late Leaves
Finis
 
Related books
Walter Savage Landor at amazon.co.uk


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