SONG FOR THE CENTENARY OF
WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR.
I.
Their winters, white as faith's and age's hue,
Melt, smiling through brief tears that broke between,
And hope's young conquering colours reared anew,
Since, on the day whose edge for kings made keen
Smote sharper once than ever storm-wind blew,
A head predestined for the girdling green:
That laughs at lightning all the seasons through,
Nor frost or change can sunder
Its crown untouched of thunder
