Page:The Poetical Works of William Motherwell, 1849.djvu/267

 When murmured sighs and joyous tears, Dropping like rain, Discoursed my love and told how loved I was again. Farewell!

'Twas not in cold and measured phrase We gave our passion name; Scorning such tedious eloquence, Our heart's fond flame And long imprisoned feelings fast In deep sobs came. Farewell!

Would that our love had been the love That merest worldlings know, When passion's draught to our doomed lips Turns utter woe, And our poor dream of happiness Vanishes so! Farewell!

But in the wreck of all our hopes, There's yet some touch of bliss,