Page:The Poetical Works of William Motherwell, 1849.djvu/447



Yes, I have lived, and lived until I knew The world ne'er alters its ungrateful hue, And glance malign; And though, at times, some chance-sown noble spirit Its wilderness a season may inherit, In want and pine, Yet these be weeded soon, and pass away, All unbefriended, to their funeral clay!

Array thyself for flight, my soul, nor tarry— Thou bird of glory ne'er wert doomed to marry A sphere so rude— But to be mated with some hermit star, O'er heaven's soft azure keeping watch afar, In pulchritude: Uplift thy pinions, seek thy resting-place, Where kindred spirits long for thy embrace— Dear brotherhood.