Page:Landon in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book 1835.pdf/72

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Such is the dwelling, grey and old, which, in some world-worn mood, The youthful poet dreamed would suit his future solitude. If the old abbey be his search, he might seek far and near Ere he would find a gothic cell more lorn and lone than here: Long years have darkened into time since vespers here were rung, And here has been no other dirge than what the winds have sung; And here the drooping ivy wreaths in ancient clusters fall, And moss o'er each device hath grown upon the sculptured wall; Yet might he find some southern cell, where sweet wild flowers are creeping, And old pear trees below the arch—their autumn leaves are weeping. There might he heap the treasured things he mentions in his song, Scrolls, crayons, folios, which have been familiar friends so long; Black but inlaid with ivory, a lock of golden hair, And letters dated years ago, and poems half complete, In picturesque disorder flung, would make a dwelling meet For the young poet anchorite, who from our world hath flown, To build, in solitude and song, another of his own.
 * A picture half effaced, (once dear), a lute, an oaken chair,

"Que fut cher autrefois."
 * "Un portrait effacé