. Maud, Locksley hall, and other poems . ripe, too the least little delicate aquiline curve in a sensi-tive nose,From which I escaped heart-free, with the leastlittle touch of spleen. Maud; A JMonodrania. III. Cold and clear-cut face, why come you so cruelly meek,Breaking a slumber in which all spleenful folly was drownd,Pale with the golden beam of an e3elash dead on the cheek,Passionless, pale, cold face, star-sweet on a gloom profound ;Womanlike, taking revenge too deep for a transient wrongDone but in thought to your beauty, and ever as pale as beforeGrowing and fading and growing
. Maud, Locksley hall, and other poems . ripe, too the least little delicate aquiline curve in a sensi-tive nose,From which I escaped heart-free, with the leastlittle touch of spleen. Maud; A JMonodrania. III. Cold and clear-cut face, why come you so cruelly meek,Breaking a slumber in which all spleenful folly was drownd,Pale with the golden beam of an e3elash dead on the cheek,Passionless, pale, cold face, star-sweet on a gloom profound ;Womanlike, taking revenge too deep for a transient wrongDone but in thought to your beauty, and ever as pale as beforeGrowing and fading and growing upon me withovit a , gemlike, ghostlike, deathlike, half the night long,Growing and fading and growing, till I could bear it no more,But arose, and all by myself in my own dark garden ground,Listening now to the tide in its broad-fli;ng ship-wrecking to the scream of a maddend beach draggd down by the wave,Walkd in a wintry wind by a ghastly glimmer, and foundThe shining daffodil dead, and Orion low in his PASSIONLESS, PALE, COLD FACE. () Maud; IV. A million emeralds break from the niby-buddedlime In the little grove where I sit — ah, wherefore can-not I be Like things of the season gay, like the bountifulseason bland. When the far-off sail is blown by the breeze of asofter clime, Half-lost in the liquid azure bloom of a crescent ofsea, The silent sapphire-spangled marriage ring of theland? Below me, there, is the village, and looks how quietand small ! And yet bubbles o er like a city, with gossip, scan-dal, and spite; And Jack on his ale-house bench has as many liesas a Czar; And here on the landward side, by a red rock,glimmers the Hall j A Monodrama. 13 And up in the high Hall-garden I see her pass like a light;But sorrow seize me if ever that light be my leading star! When have I bowd to her father, the wrinkledhead of the race ? I met her to-day with her brother, but not to herbrother I bowd: I bowd to his ladj-sister as she rode by on the
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