In Memory of Walter Savage Landor

Back to the flower-town, side by side,The bright months bring,New-born, the bridegroom and the bride,Freedom and spring.The sweet land laughs from sea to sea,5Filled full of sun;All things come back to her, being free;All things but one.In many a tender wheaten plotFlowers that were dead10Live, and old suns revive; but notThat holier head.

By this white wandering waste of sea,Far north, I hearOne face shall never turn to me15As once this year:

Shall never smile and turn and restOn mine as there,Nor one most sacred hand be prestUpon my hair.20

I came as one whose thoughts half linger,Half run before;The youngest to the oldest singerThat England bore.

I found him whom I shall not find25Till all grief end,In holiest age our mightiest mind,Father and friend.

But thou, if anything endure,If hope there be,30O spirit that man's life left pure,Man's death set free,

Not with disdain of days that wereLook earthward now;Let dreams revive the reverend hair,35The imperial brow;

Come back in sleep, for in the lifeWhere thou art notWe find none like thee. Time and strifeAnd the world's lot40

Move thee no more; but love at leastAnd reverent heartMay move thee, royal and released,Soul, as thou art.

And thou, his Florence, to thy trust45Receive and keep,Keep safe his dedicated dust,His sacred sleep.

So shall thy lovers, come from far,Mix with thy name50As morning-star with evening-starHis faultless fame.