Page:The Poetical Works of William Motherwell, 1849.djvu/201

 Though scant be the cost Of that morsel of air. Will it clothe, will it feed me, Or rest my worn frame? Good day! wholesome diet, A proud heart to tame.

Now the sun dusks his glories Below the blue sea, And no star its splendor Deems worthy of me; The path I must travel, Grows dark as my fate, And nature, like man, can Wax savage in hate.

My country! my country! Though step-dame thou be, Yet my heart, in its anguish, Cleaves fondly to thee; Still in fancy it lingers By mountain and stream, And thy name is the spirit That rules its wild dream.