The Poetical Works of William Motherwell/Could Love Impart
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
They'd own themselves outdone,
When thy pure brow
And neck of snow
Gleamed in the morning sun.
Could shining brooks,
By amorous looks,
Be taught a voice so rare,
Then, every sound
That murmured round
Would whisper, "Thou art fair!"
Could winds be fraught
With pensive thought
At midnight's solemn hour,
Then every wood,
In gleeful mood,
Would own thy beauty's power!
And, could the sky
Behold thine eye,
So filled with love and light,
In jealous haste,
Thou soon wert placed
To star, the cope of Night!