To Sir Walter Scott

written by


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ON ACCIDENTLY MEETING AND PARTING WITH SIR WALTER SCOTT, WHOM I HAD NOT
SEEN FOR MANY YEARS, IN THE STREETS OF LONDON

  Since last I saw that countenance so mild,
  Slow-stealing age, and a faint line of care,
  Had gently touched, methought, some features there;
  Yet looked the man as placid as a child,
  And the same voice,--whilst mingled with the throng,
  Unknowing, and unknown, we passed along,--
  That voice, a share of the brief time beguiled!
  That voice I ne'er may hear again, I sighed
  At parting,--wheresoe'er our various way,
  In this great world,--but from the banks of Tweed,
  As slowly sink the shades of eventide,
  Oh! I shall hear the music of his reed,
  Far off, and thinking of that voice, shall say,
  A blessing rest upon thy locks of gray!

© William Lisle Bowles