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 hollowReply all day;While gentle fay,With merry whoop, would follow.

Had roses sense,On no pretenceWould they their buds unroll;For, could they speak.'Twas from thy cheekTheir dantiest blush they stole.

Had lilies eyes,With glad surprise

They'd own themselves outdone,When thy pure browAnd neck of snowGleamed in the morning sun.

Could shining brooks,By amorous looks,Be taught a voice so rare,Then, every soundThat murmured roundWould whisper, "Thou art fair!"

Could winds be fraughtWith pensive thoughtAt midnight's solemn hour,Then every wood,In gleeful mood,Would own thy beauty's power!

And, could the skyBehold thine eye,So filled with love and light,In jealous haste,Thou soon wert placedTo star, the cope of Night!