Maude Clare

• Out of the church she followed them

  With a lofty step and mien:
• His bride was like a village maid,

  Maude Clare was like a queen.
• “Son Thomas,” his lady mother said,

  With smiles, almost with tears:
• “May Nell and you but live as true

  As we have done for years;
• “Your father thirty years ago

  Had just your tale to tell;
• But he was not so pale as you,

  Nor I so pale as Nell.”
• My lord was pale with inward strife,

  And Nell was pale with pride;
• My lord gazed long on pale Maude Clare

  Or ever he kissed the bride.
• “Lo, I have brought my gift, my lord,

  Have brought my gift,” she said:
• “To bless the hearth, to bless the board,

  To bless the marriage-bed.
• “Here’s my half of the golden chain

  You wore about your neck,
• That day we waded ankle-deep

  For lilies in the beck:
• “Here’s my half of the faded leaves

  We plucked from the budding bough,
• With feet amongst the lily leaves, –

  The lilies are budding now.”
• 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.
• She turn’d to Nell: “My Lady Nell,

  I have a gift for you;
• Tho’, 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.”
• “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.
• “Yea, tho’ you’re taller by the head,

  More wise, and much more fair;
• I’ll love him till he loves me best,

  Me best of all, Maude Clare.”