The Poetical Works of William Motherwell/Love in Worldlynesse

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Love in Worldlynesse.

The gentle heart, the truthful love,
Have flemed this earth and fled to Heaven—
The noblest spirits earliest prove
Not Here below, but There above,
Is Hope no shadow—Bliss no sweven!

There was a time, old Poets say,
When the crazed world was in its nonage,
That they who loved were loved alwaye,
With faith transparent as the day,
But this, meseems, was fiction's coinage.

We cannot mate here as we ought,
With laws opposed to simple feeling;
Professions are, like lutestring, bought,
And worldly ties soon breed distraught,
To end in cold congealing!

Forms we have worshipped oft become,
If haply they affect our passion,
Though faultless, icy cold and dumb,
Because we are not rich, like some,
Or proud—Such is this strange world's fashion!


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—

My lady glided off by stealth
To wed a lozel for his wealth—
And this was Loyalty's repayment!

The language of the trusting heart,
The soothfast fondness firm, but tender—
Are now to most a studied part,
A tongue assumed, a trick of art,
Whereof no meaning can I render.

And hence I say that loyal love
Hath flemed the Earth and fled to Heaven;
And that not here, but there above,
Souls may love rightfully, and prove
Hope is no shadow—Bliss no sweven!