The Troubadour
The Troubadour
Letitia Elizabeth Landon
Lute and singer both are gone,
But the song lives on and on:
Youth, and love, and all things fleet,
But the song is still as sweet.
She who wept beside the sea,
She who sang so gloriously,
Long has been at peace and rest —
Harp strings sleep upon her breast.
But the melody she made
Never silence, never shade
Of oblivion may consume:
Poesy is not a tomb.
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The Troubadour, 1825.
