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Poetry Archives

A continuing selection of classic and contemporary poems.

Rose Aylmer

Walter Savage Landor

Ah, what avails the sceptred race!
Ah, what the form divine!
What every virtue, every grace!
Rose Aylmer, all were thine.

Rose Aylmer, whom these wakeful eyes
May weep, but never see,
A night of memories and sighs
I consecrate to thee.
Online text © 1998-2008 Poetry X. All rights reserved.

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