Walter Savage Landor - Loss Of Memory - Read by John Nixon
Loss Of Memory
by Walter Savage Landor (1775-1864)
Memory! thou hidest from me far,
Hidest behind some twinkling star
Which peers o'er Pindus, or whose beam
Crosses that broad and rapid stream
Where Zeus in wily whiteness shone
And Leda left her virgin zone.
Often I catch thy glimpses still
By that clear river, that lone hill,
But seldom dost thou softly glide
To take thy station at my side.
When later friends and forms are near;
From these thy traces disappear,
And scarce a name can I recall
Of those I value most of all.
At times thou hurriest me away.
And, pointing out an earlier day,
Biddest me hsten to a song
I ought to have forgotten long:
Then, looking up, I see above
The plumage of departing Love,
And when I cry, Art thou too gone?
He laughs at me and passes on.
Some images (alas how few!)
Still sparkle in the evening dew
Along my path: and must they quite
Vanish before a deeper night?
Keep one, Memory! yet awhile
And let me think I see it smile.