Walter Savage Landor (1775–1864)

HERE, ever since you went abroad,

If there be change, no change I see:

I only walk our wonted road,

The road is only walk’d by me.

Yes; I forgot; a change there is—

Was it of that you bade me tell?

I catch at times, at times I miss

The sight, the tone, I know so well.

Only two months since you stood here!

Two shortest months! then tell me why

Voices are harsher than they were,

And tears are longer ere they dry.