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A Prophecy: Poem by Walter Savage Landor

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PROUD word you never spoke, but you will speak
Four not exempt from pride some future day.
Resting on one white hand a warm wet cheek,
Over my open volume you will say,
“This man loved me!” then rise and trip away.

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More poems by Walter Savage Landor

  • The Georges
  • Memory
  • An Invocation
  • Remain!
  • The One White Hair
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