Twenty Years Hence by Walter Savage Landor
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 though it may hap That I be called to take a nap In a cool cell where thunderclap Was never heard,
There breathe but o'er my arch of grass A not too sadly sighed Alas, And I shall catch, ere you can pass, That winged word.
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