Posthumous Poems/Landor at Florence
LANDOR AT FLORENCE
The stateliest singing mouth that speaks our tongue, The lordliest, and the brow of loftiest leaf Worn after the great fashion close and brief, Sounds and shines yet; to whom all braids belong Of plaited laurel that no weathers wrong, All increase of the spring and of the sheaf, All high delight and godliness of grief,All bloom and fume of summer and of song. The years are of his household; Fate and Fame Observe him; and the things of pestilenceDie out of fear, that could not die of shame, Before his heel he set on their offence: Time's hand shall hoard the gold of such a name When death has blown the dust of base men thence. 1864.