195
Could Love Impart.
Could love impart,
By nicest art,
To speechless rocks a tongue,—
Their theme would be,
Beloved, of thee,—
Thy beauty, all their song.
And, clerklike, then,
With sweet amen,
Would echo from each hollow
Reply all day;
While gentle fay,
With merry whoop, would follow.
Had roses sense,
On no pretence
Would they their buds unroll;
For, could they speak.
'Twas from thy cheek
Their dantiest blush they stole.
Had lilies eyes,
With glad surprise
