Page:The Poetical Works of William Motherwell, 1849.djvu/445

 No change can ever shake A woman's virtuous fame: The moon is forth anew, Though envious clouds endeavour To screen her from our view— More beautiful than ever: So, through detraction's haze, True Woman shines alwaies.

The many-tinted Rose, Of gardens is the queen, The perfumed Violet knows No peer where she is seen— The flower of woman-kind Is aye a gentle mind.