Maud, and Other Poems — Maud Part I, V-XII

V.

1. A voice by the cedar tree, In the meadow under the Hall!

She is singing an air that is known to me, A passionate ballad gallant and gay, A martial song like a trumpet's call!

Singing alone in the morning of life, In the happy morning of life and of May, Singing of men that in battle array, Ready in heart and ready in hand, March with banner and bugle and fife To the death, for their native land.

2. Maud with her exquisite face.

And wild voice pealing up to the sunny sky, 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.

3. Silence, beautiful voice!

Be still, for you only trouble the mind With a joy in which I cannot rejoice, A glory I shall not find.

Still!

I will hear you no more, For your sweetness hardly leaves me a choice But to move to the meadow and fall before Her feet on the meadow grass, and adore, Not her, who is neither courtly nor kind, Not her, not her, but a voice.

VI.

1. Morning arises stormy and pale, No sun, but a wannish glare In fold upon fold of hueless cloud, And the budded peaks of the wood are bow'd Caught and cuff'd by the gale: I had fancied it would be fair.

2. Whom but Maud should I meet Last night, when the sunset burn'd On the blossom'd gable-ends At the head of the village street, Whom but Maud should I meet?

And she touch'd my hand with a smile so sweet She made me divine amends For a courtesy not return'd. 3. And thus a delicate spark Of glowing and growing light Thro' the livelong hours of the dark Kept itself warm in the heart of my dreams, Ready to burst in a colour'd flame;

Till at last when the morning came In a cloud, it faded, and seems But an ashen-gray delight.

4. What if with her sunny hair, And smile as sunny as cold, She meant to weave me a snare Of some coquettish deceit, Cleopatra-like as of old To entangle me when we met, To have her lion roll in a silken net And fawn at a victor's feet.

5. Ah, what shall I be at fifty Should Nature keep me alive, If I find the world so bitter When I am but twenty-five?

Yet, if she were not a cheat, If Maud were all that she seem'd, And her smile were all that I dream'd, Then the world were not so bitter But a smile could make it sweet.

6. What if tho' her eye seem'd full Of a kind intent to me, What if that dandy-despot, he, That jewell'd mass of millinery, That oil'd and curl'd Assyrian Bull Smelling of musk and of insolence, Her brother, from whom I keep aloof, Who wants the finer politic sense To mask, tho' but in his own behoof, With a glassy smile his brutal scorn-- What if he had told her yestermorn How prettily for his own sweet sake A face of tenderness might be feign'd, And a moist mirage in desert eyes, That so, when the rotten hustings shake In another month to his brazen lies, A wretched vote may be gain'd. 7. For a raven ever croaks, at my side, Keep watch and ward, keep watch and ward, Or thou wilt prove their tool.

Yea too, myself from myself I guard, For often a man's own angry pride Is cap and bells for a fool.

8. Perhaps the smile and tender tone Came out of her pitying womanhood, For am I not, am I not, here alone So many a summer since she died, My mother, who was so gentle and good?

Living alone in an empty house, Here half-hid in the gleaming wood, Where I hear the dead at midday moan, And the shrieking rush of the wainscot mouse, And my own sad name in corners cried, When the shiver of dancing leaves is thrown About its echoing chambers wide, Till a morbid hate and horror have grown Of a world in which I have hardly mixt, And a morbid eating lichen fixt On a heart half-turn'd to stone.

9. O heart of stone, are you flesh, and caught By that you swore to withstand?

For what was it else within me wrought But, I fear, the new strong wine of love, That made my tongue so stammer and trip When I saw the treasured splendour, her hand, Come sliding out of her sacred glove, And the sunlight broke from her lip?

10. I have play'd with her when a child;

She remembers it now we meet.

Ah well, well, well, I may be beguiled By some coquettish deceit.

Yet, if she were not a cheat, If Maud were all that she seem'd, And her smile had all that I dream'd, Then the world were not so bitter But a smile could make it sweet.

VII.

1. Did I hear it half in a doze Long since, I know not where?

Did I dream it an hour ago, When asleep in this arm-chair?

2. Men were drinking together, Drinking and talking of me;

'Well, if it prove a girl, the boy Will have plenty: so let it be.'

3. Is it an echo of something Read with a boy's delight, Viziers nodding together In some Arabian night?

4. Strange, that I hear two men, Somewhere, talking of me;

'Well, if it prove a girl, my boy Will have plenty: so let it be.'

VIII.

She came to the village church, And sat by a pillar alone;

An angel watching an urn Wept over her, carved in stone;

And once, but once, she lifted her eyes, And suddenly, sweetly, strangely blush'd To find they were met by my own;

And suddenly, sweetly, my heart beat stronger And thicker, until I heard no longer The snowy-banded, dilettante, Delicate-handed priest intone;

And thought, is it pride, and mused and sigh'd 'No surely, now it cannot be pride.'

IX.

I was walking a mile, More than a mile from the shore, The sun look'd out with a smile Betwixt the cloud and the moor, And riding at set of day Over the dark moor land, Rapidly riding far away, She waved to me with her hand.

There were two at her side, Something flash' d in the sun, Down by the hill I saw them ride, In a moment they were gone: Like a sudden spark Struck vainly in the night, And back returns the dark With no more hope of light.

X.

1. Sick, am I sick of a jealous dread?

Was not one of the two at her side This new-made lord, whose splendour plucks The slavish hat from the villager's head?

Whose old grand-father has lately died, Gone to a blacker pit, for whom Grimy nakedness dragging his trucks And laying his trams in a poison'd gloom Wrought, till he crept from a gutted mine Master of half a servile shire, And left his coal all turn'd into gold To a grandson, first of his noble line, Rich in the grace all women desire, Strong in the power that all men adore, And simper and set their voices lower, And soften as if to a girl, and hold Awe-stricken breaths at a work divine, Seeing his gewgaw castle shine, New as his title, built last year, There amid perky larches and pine, And over the sullen-purple moor (Look at it) pricking a cockney ear.

2. What, has he found my jewel out?

For one of the two that rode at her side Bound for the Hall, I am sure was he: Bound for the Hall, and I think for a bride.

Blithe would her brother's acceptance be.

Maud could be gracious too, no doubt, To a lord, a captain, a padded shape, A bought commission, a waxen face, A rabbit mouth that is ever agape-- Bought?

what is it he cannot buy?

And therefore splenetic, personal, base, A wounded thing with a rancourous cry, At war with myself and a wretched race, Sick, sick to the heart of life, am I. 3. Last week came one to the county town, To preach our poor little army down, And play the game of the despot kings, Tho' the state has done it and thrice as well: This broad-brim'd hawker of holy things, Whose ear is cramm'd with his cotton, and rings Even in dreams to the chink of his pence, This huckster put down war!

can he tell Whether war be a cause or a consequence?

Put down the passions that make earth Hell!

Down with ambition, avarice, pride, Jealousy, down!

cut off from the mind The bitter springs of anger and fear;

Down too, down at your own fireside, With the evil tongue and the evil ear, For each is at war with mankind.

4. I wish I could hear again The chivalrous battle-song That she warbled alone in her joy!

I might persuade myself then She would not do herself this great wrong To take a wanton dissolute boy For a man and leader of men.

5. Ah God, for a man with heart, head, hand, Like some of the simple great ones gone For ever and ever by, One still strong man in a blatant land, Whatever they call him, what care I, Aristocrat, democrat, autocrat--one Who can rule and dare not lie.

6. And ah for a man to arise in me, That the man I am may cease to be!

XI.

1. O let the solid ground Not fail beneath my feet Before my life has found What some have found so sweet;

Then let come what come may, What matter if I go mad, I shall have had my day.

2. Let the sweet heavens endure, Not close and darken above me Before I am quite quite sure That there is one to love me;

Then let come what come may To a life that has been so sad, I shall have had my day.

XII.

1. Birds in the high Hall-garden When twilight was falling, Maud, Maud, Maud, Maud, They were crying and calling.

2. Where was Maud?

in our wood;

And I, who else, was with her, Gathering woodland lilies, Myriads blow together.

3. Birds in our wood sang Ringing thro' the vallies, Maud is here, here, here In among the lilies.

4. I kiss'd her slender hand, She took the kiss sedately;

Maud is not seventeen, But she is tall and stately.

5. I to cry out on pride Who have won her favour!

Maud were sure of Heaven If lowliness could save her.

6. I know the way she went Home with her maiden posy, For her feet have touch'd the meadows And left the daisies rosy.

7. Birds in the high Hall-garden Were crying and calling to her, Where is Maud, Maud, Maud, One is come to woo her.

8. Look, a horse at the door, And little King Charles is snarling, Go back, my lord, across the moor, You are not her darling.