[Although I profess to know these lines by heart, I was reluctant to trust memory cells o'er -taxed with relentless years. I peeked. (Don't even THINK "peaked"!)]

Rose Aylmer .......Walter Savage Landor

Ah, what avails the sceptred race!
Ah, what the form divine!
What every virtue, every grace!
Rose Aylmer*,all were thine

Rose Aylmer*, whom these wakeful eyes
May weep, but never see,
A night of memories and of sighs
I consecrate to thee.

* (Note -- One may here (*) substitute another name of one's own choosing provided, of course, that one does not violate Mr. Landor's graceful meter.)

Scribbler