Page:The Poetical Works of William Motherwell, 1849.djvu/272

 When cottage-hearths are glimmering low, And warder cocks forget to crow; Then is the hour That hearts feel passion's overflow,— Then is the hour That the voice of love is a spell of power!

When stilly night seems earth's vast grave, Nor murmur comes from wood or wave; When land and sea, in wedlock bound By silence, sleep in bliss profound; Then is the hour That hearts like living well-springs sound,— Then is the hour That the voice of love is a spell of power!