Page:Maud, and other poems.djvu/45

Rh 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,