. Maud, Locksley hall, and other poems . e upon itIf one should ask me whetherThe habit, hat, and feather,Or the frock and gipsy bonnetBe the neater and completer ;For nothing can be sweeterThan maiden Maud in either. But to-morrow, if we live,Our ponderous squire will giveA grand political dinnerTo half the squirelings near ;And Maud will wear her jewels,And the bird of prey will the titmouse hope to win herWith his chirrup at her ear. A grand political dinner To the men of many acres, A gathering of the Tory, A dinner and then a dance For the maids and marriage-makers, And every ey
. Maud, Locksley hall, and other poems . e upon itIf one should ask me whetherThe habit, hat, and feather,Or the frock and gipsy bonnetBe the neater and completer ;For nothing can be sweeterThan maiden Maud in either. But to-morrow, if we live,Our ponderous squire will giveA grand political dinnerTo half the squirelings near ;And Maud will wear her jewels,And the bird of prey will the titmouse hope to win herWith his chirrup at her ear. A grand political dinner To the men of many acres, A gathering of the Tory, A dinner and then a dance For the maids and marriage-makers, And every eye but mine will glance At Maud in all her glory. For I am not invited. But, with the Sultans pardon, A Monodrania. 55 I am as well delighced,For I know her own rose-garden,And mean to linger in itTill the dancing will be over ;And then, oh then, come out to meFor a minute, but for a minute,Come out to your own true lover,That your true lover may seeYour glory also, and renderAll homage to his own darling,Queen Maud in all her QUEEN MAUD IN ALL HER SPLENDOUR. {56) Maui; A Monodraina. 57 XXI. Rivulet crossing my ground, And bringing me down from the Hall This garden-rose that I found, Forgetful of Maud and me. And lost in trouble and moving round Here at the head of a tinkling fall, And trying to pass to the sea; O Rivulet, born at the Hall, My Maud has sent it by thee (If I read her sweet will right) On a blushing mission to me, Sajdng in odour and colour, Ah, be Among the roses to-night. 58 Maud; XXII. Come into the garden, Maud, For the black bat, night, has flown, /
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