Twenty Years Hence

by Walter Savage Landor

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 called 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 sighed 'Alas!'
And I shall catch ere you can pass
That wingéd word.