Page:The Poetical Works of William Motherwell, 1849.djvu/131



No change is here, all things remain As they were years ago; With selfsame voice the old woods playne, When shrilly winds do blow— Still murmuring to itself, the stream Rolls o'er its rocky bed— Still smiling in its quiet dream, The small flower nods its head; And I stand here," the War-worn said, Like Nature's heart, unaltered."

Now, Flesh and Blood, that sits by me On this bare ledge of stone, So sat that Childe of chivalrie, One summer eve alone. I saw him, and methought he seemed Like to the Bearded Form That sat before the sun, and gleamed Defiance to the storm; I saw him in his war-weed sit, And other Two before him flit.

Yes, in the shadow of that tree, And motionless as stone,