Page:The Poetical Works of William Motherwell, 1849.djvu/378



shade! why thus presume, O'er face so fair to cast thy gloom; And hide from the enamoured sight, Those lips so sweet, and eyes so bright? Why veil those blushes of the cheek, Which purity of soul bespeak? Why shroud that brow in hermit cell, On which high thoughts serenely dwell? Why chain severe the clustering hair, That whilome shed a radiance rare— A golden mist—o'er neck and brow, Like sunset over drifted snow?

O kindly shade, for ever be Between me and love's witchery!— For ever be to Ellen's eyes, Like grateful cloud in summer skies, Mellowing the fervour of the day: For should they dart another ray Of their enchanting light on me, Farewell the proud boast—I am free!