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MAUDE CLARE.
He strove to match her scorn with scorn,
He faltered in his place:
"Lady," he said,—"Maude Clare," he said,—
"Maude Clare:"—and hid his face.
He faltered in his place:
"Lady," he said,—"Maude Clare," he said,—
"Maude Clare:"—and hid his face.
She turn'd to Nell: "My Lady Nell,
I have a gift for you;
Though, were it fruit, the bloom were gone,
Or, were it flowers, the dew.
I have a gift for you;
Though, were it fruit, the bloom were gone,
Or, were it flowers, the dew.
"Take my share of a fickle heart,
Mine of a paltry love:
Take it or leave it as you will,
I wash my hands thereof."
Mine of a paltry love:
Take it or leave it as you will,
I wash my hands thereof."
"And what you leave," said Nell, "I'll take,
And what you spurn, I'll wear;
For he's my lord for better and worse,
And him I love, Maude Clare.
And what you spurn, I'll wear;
For he's my lord for better and worse,
And him I love, Maude Clare.
