Page:Maud, and other poems.djvu/45

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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.


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.


What if with her sunny hair,
And smile as sunny as cold,
She meant to weave me a snare

Of some coquettish deceit,