Page:The Poetical Works of William Motherwell, 1849.djvu/335



babble not to me, Gray Eild, Of days and years mis-spent, Unless thou can'st again restore Youth's scenes of merriment.

Can'st thou recal to me the heart That bounded sorrow-free, Or wake to life the lovely one Who stole that heart from me?

Can'st thou by magic art compel The shrouded dead to rise, And all the friends of early years Again to glad my eyes?

Can'st thou renew Hope's flattering dream That promised joys in store, Or bid me taste again those few, Alas! that are no more?