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86
MAUD.
Pass, thou deathlike type of pain,
Pass and cease to move about,
'Tis the blot upon the brain
That will show itself without.
9.
Then I rise, the eavedrops fall,
And the yellow vapours choke
The great city sounding wide;
The day comes, a dull red ball
Wrapt in drifts of lurid smoke
On the misty river-tide.
10.
Thro' the hubbub of the market
I steal, a wasted frame,
It crosses here, it crosses there,
