When have I bow'd to her father, the wrinkled head of the race ? I met her to-day with her brother, but not to her brother I bow'd: I bow'd to to his lady sister as she rode by on the Moor But the fire of a foolish pride flash'd over her face. beaut wrono fosse 90 O child, you Your believe it, in W well-gotten, and I am nameless, and poor. biupil at ui volalcH to pain agenza bebant queridgese I keep but a man and a maid, ever ready to slander and steal; I know it, and smile a hard-set smile, like a stoic, or like A wiser epicurean, and let the world have its let the way: For nature is one with rapine, a harm no preacher can heal; The Mayfly is torn by the swallow, the sparrow spear'd by the shrike, And the whole little wood where I sit is a 501 world of plunder and prey.mmity zeeq 197 sax i nabug-llah dgid oft si qu baA 5 We are puppets, Man in his pride, and Beauty That pushes us off from the board, and others Maud ever succeed? Ah yet, we cannot be kind to each other here for an hour; to nebug We whisper, and hint, and chuckle, and grin at a brother's shame; However we brave it out, we men are a little breed. A monstrous eft was of old the Lord and Master For him did his high sun flame, and his river billowing ran, And he felt himself in his force to be Nature's As nine months go to the shaping an infant ripe He now is first, but is he the last? is he not barl fuoiensq a col you, ed somaso The man of science himself is fonder of glory, and vain, : esil to duddin An eye well-practised in nature, a spirit bounded and poor; The passionate heart of the poet is whirl'd into folly and vice. Iwould not marvel at perate brain; 100 10 bood Maud For Cnotitob desiredore admire, if a man could learn it, were more I begnoua tava Than to walk all day like the sultan of old in a Who knows the ways of the world, how God Our planet is one, the suns are many, the world Shall I weep if a Poland fall shall I shriek if sy naiwollid Or an infant civilisation be ruled with rod /or have not made the world, and He that made SH Be mine a philosopher's life in the quiet wood land ways, Where if I cannot be gay let a passionless peace be my lot, Far-off from the clamour of liars belied in the hubbub of lies; aisy bas bFrom the long-neck'd geese of the world that are ever hissing dispraise: 1004 bus Because their natures are little, and, whether he .ssiv bas yliot heed it or not, Where each man walks with his head in a cloud And most of all would I flee from the cruel madness of love, The honey of poison-flowers and all the measure less ill. Ah Maud, you milkwhite fawn, you are all unmeet for a wife. Your mother is mute in her grave as her image in marble above; Your is about at your in London, you wander will; You have but fed on the roses and lain in the lilies of life. bait son Haub, Lviele A on no? od lliw I a viinud kontrowe woy to'l ve▼bem sdt of overn es au wobsom allt no real H A voice by the cedar trees and and ton and to3⁄41 She is singing an air that is known to me, Singing alone in the morning of life, imno M bict Ready in heart and ready in hand, adi bo A Maud with her exquisite face, bus and goodW Maud And feet like sunny gems on an English green, Maud in the light of her youth and her grace, Singing of Death, and of Honour that cannot die, Till I well could weep for a time so sordid and mean, And myself so languid and base. nymi rod as tVITY Silence, beautiful voice! 3 Be still, for you only trouble the mind Still! I will hear you no more, For your sweetness hardly leaves me a choice Morning arises stormy and pale, In fold upon fold of hueless cloud, Caught and cuff'd by the the wood are bow'd and be buM I had fancied it would be fair. 10k disch adi oT 2 Whom but Maud should I meetod diw bould |