Mild is the Parting Year -- Walter Savage Landor (1775–1864)

Mild is the parting year, and sweet

         The odour of the falling spray;

Life passes on more rudely fleet,

         And balmless is its closing day.

I wait its close, I court its gloom,

         But mourn that never must there fall

Or on my breast or on my tomb

         The tear that would have soothed it all.