Page:The Poetical Works of William Motherwell, 1849.djvu/428



oft have told me that deceit Lies hid in dimpled smiles, But eyes so chaste and lips so sweet Conceal not wanton wiles!

I'll trust thee, lady!—To deceive, Or guileful tale to speak, Was never fashioned I believe The beauty of thy cheek!

Yes, I will trust the azure eye That thrilled me with delight, The loving load-star of a sky Which erst was darkest night.

Ever, dear maid, in weal or wo, In gladness and in sorrow, Hand clasped in hand, we'll forward go, Both eventide and morrow!