Page:The Poetical Works of William Motherwell, 1849.djvu/231

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147

Till plundered hearts at last are won,
To woo despair.

II.

Why linger on,
Fate’s mockery here,
When each is gone,
Heart-loved, heart-dear?
Stone spells to stone
Its weary tale,
How graves were filled,
How cheeks waxed pale,
How hearts were chilled
With biting gale,
And life’s strings thrilled
With sorrow’s wail.
Flower follows flower
In the heart’s bower,
To fleet away;
While leaf on leaf,
Sharp grief on grief,—
Night chasing day,
Tell as they fall, all joy is brief,
Life but decay.