Page:The Poetical Works of William Motherwell, 1849.djvu/271



shadows o'er the landscape creep, And twinkling stars pale vigils keep; When flower-cups all with dew-drops gleam And moonshine floweth like a stream; Then is the hour That hearts which love no longer dream,— Then is the hour That the voice of love is a spell of power!

When shamefaced moonbeams kiss the lake, And amorous leaves sweet music wake; When slumber steals o'er every eye, And Dian's self shines drowsily; Then is the hour That hearts which love with rapture sigh,— Then is the hour That the voice of love is a spell of power!

When surly mastiffs stint their howl, And swathed in moonshine nods the owl;