Page:The Poetical Works of William Motherwell, 1849.djvu/454



Rapt Fancy lends to unchaste eyes Ideal beauty, and on faces Where red rose blent with lily tries For mastery, in wanton wise, Bestows enchanting graces:

Yet, as we gaze, the charms decay That promised long with these to linger; Of love's delight we're forced to say, It melts like dreamer's wealth away, Which cheers the eye but mocks the finger!

And, therefore, move I calmly by The siren bosom softly heaving, And mark, untouched, the tempter's sigh, Or make response with tranquil eye— 'Kind damsel, I am past deceiving!'

Long sued I as a man should do, With cheek high flushed by deep emotion— My lady's love had no such hue, Hard selfishness would still break through The glowing mask of her devotion!

No land had I—but I had health— No store was mine of costly raiment—