Page:The Poetical Works of William Motherwell, 1849.djvu/231

 Till plundered hearts at last are won, To woo despair.

Why linger on, Fate’s mockery here, When each is gone, Heart-loved, heart-dear? Stone spells to stone Its weary tale, How graves were filled, How cheeks waxed pale, How hearts were chilled With biting gale, And life’s strings thrilled With sorrow’s wail. Flower follows flower In the heart’s bower, To fleet away; While leaf on leaf, Sharp grief on grief,— Night chasing day, Tell as they fall, all joy is brief, Life but decay.