WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR

��. Autumn

1VTILD is the parting year, and sweet '**' The odour of the falling spray; Life passes on more rudely fleet, And balmless is its closing day.

I wait its close, I court its gloom, But mourn that never must there fall

Or on my breast or on my tomb

The tear that would have soothed it all.

��566. Remain !

REMAIN, ah not in youth alone! Tho' youth, where you are, long will stay- But when my summer days are gone,

And my autumnal haste away. 1 Can I be always by your side ? '

No ; but the hours you can, you must, Nor rise at Death's approaching stride, Nor go when dust is gone to dust.

��H

��567. Absence

ERE, ever since you went abroad,

If there be change, no change I see: I only walk our wonted road, The road is only walk'd by me.

Yes; I forgot; a change there is Was it of that you bade me tell?

I catch at times, at times I miss

The sight, the tone, I know so well.

�� �