Poetry Archives

Twenty years hence my eyes may grow,
If not quite dim, yet rather so;
Yet yours from others they shall know,
            Twenty years hence.

Twenty years hence, though it may hap
That I be call’d to take a nap
In a cool cell where thunder-clap
            Was never heard,

There breathe but o’er my arch of grass
A not too sadly sigh’d ‘Alas!’
And I shall catch, ere you can pass,
            That wingèd word.