Page:The Poetical Works of William Motherwell, 1849.djvu/411



It seems a dream the infant love That tamed my truant will, But 'twas a dream of happiness, And I regret it still!

Its images are part of me, A very part of mind— Feelings and fancies beautiful In purity combined!

Time's sunset lends a tenderer tinge To what those feelings were, Like the cloud-mellow'd radiance Which evening landscapes bear:

They wedded are unto my soul, As light is blent with heat, Or as the hallowed confluence Of air with odours sweet.