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Who shall call me ungentle, unfair,
I long'd so earnestly then and there
To give him the grasp of fellowship;
But while I past he was humming an air,
Stopt, and then with a riding whip
Leisurely tapping a glossy boot,
And curving a contumelious lip,
Gorgonised me from head to foot
With a stony British stare.


Why sits he here in his father's chair?

That old man never comes to his place : Shall I believe him ashamed to be seen ?

For only once, in the village street,
Last year, I caught a glimpse of his face,

old wolf and a lean. Scarcely, now, would I call him a cheat ;

For then, perhaps, as a child of deceit, She might by a true descent be untrue ;

And Maud is as true as Maud is sweet :

Tho' I fancy her sweetness only due
To the sweeter blood by the other side ;
Her mother has been a thing complete,

However she came to be so allied.

And fair without, faithful within,
Maud to him is nothing akin:
Some peculiar mystic grace
Made her only the child of her mother,

And heap'd the whole inherited sin
On that huge scapegoat of the race,

All, all upon the brother.


Peace, angry spirit, and let him be!

Has not his sister smiled on me ?

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And stood by her garden-gate;
A lion ramps at the top,
He is claspt by a passion-flower.


Maud's own little oak-room

(Which Maud, like a precious stone

Set in the heart of the carven gloom,

Lights with herself, when alone

She sits by her music and books,
And her brother lingers late

With a roystering company) looks
Upon Maud's own garden gate:
And I thought as I stood, if a hand, as white

As ocean-foam in the moon, were laid

On the hasp of the window, and my Delight
Had a sudden desire, like a glorious ghost, to glide
Like a beam of the seventh Heaven, dowu to my


There were but a step to be made.


The fancy flatter'd my mind,

And again seem'd overbold;
Now I thought that she cared for me,
Now I thought she was kind
Only because she was cold.


I heard no sound where I stood

But the rivulet on from the lawn

Running down to my own dark wood;
Or the voice of the long sea-wave as it swell'd
Now and then in the dim-gray dawn;

But I look'd, and round, all round the house I


The death-white curtain drawn;

Felt a horror over me creep,
Prickle my skin and catch my breath, ,

Knew that the death-white curtain meant but


Yet I shudder'd and thought like a fool of the

sleep of death.


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