2. Who shall call me ungentle, unfair, And curving a contumelious lip, 3. Why sits he here in his father's chair? A gray old wolf and a lean. Scarcely, now, would I call him a cheat; MAUD. For then, perhaps, as a child of deceit, 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. 4. Peace, angry spirit, and let him be! Has not his sister smiled on me? XIV. 1. MAUD has a garden of roses And lilies fair on a lawn; There she walks in her state And tends upon bed and bower; And thither I climb'd at dawn And stood by her garden-gate ; A lion ramps at the top, He is claspt by a passion-flower. 2. Maud's own little oak-room (Which Maud, like a precious stone The bitter springs of anger and fear; Down too, down at your own fireside, For each is at war with mankind. 4. 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, |