Page:The Poetical Works of William Motherwell, 1849.djvu/233

 Its things of pride Flaunt everywhere; But can it hide Its hollowness One mighty shell Of bitterness, One grand farewell To happiness, One solemn knell To love's caress, It seems to me. The shipless sea Hath bravery more Than this waste scene, Where what hath been Beloved of yore, In the heart's bower so fresh and green, Fades evermore!

From all its kind, This wasted heart— This moody mind Now drifts apart;