The Poetical Works of William Motherwell/Young Love
For works with similar titles, see Young Love.
Young Love.
It seems a dream the infant love
That tamed my truant will,
But 'twas a dream of happiness,
And I regret it still!
Its images are part of me,
A very part of mind—
Feelings and fancies beautiful
In purity combined!
Time's sunset lends a tenderer tinge
To what those feelings were,
Like the cloud-mellow'd radiance
Which evening landscapes bear:
They wedded are unto my soul,
As light is blent with heat,
Or as the hallowed confluence
Of air with odours sweet.
Though she, the spirit of that dream,
Lacks of the loveliness
Young fancy robed her in, yet I
May hardly love her less:
Even when as in my boyish time
I nestled by her side,
Her ever gentle impulses
Thorrow my being glide!