The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith ... Revised by the Author: Coll. ed. |
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 | The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith |  |
MURIEL
Whoever looked at Muriel, said:
That girl has soul, her heart is high,
And she has great thoughts in her head,
And scorn of meanness in her eye;
How sweetly gracious she can smile!
Yet she looks haughty all the while,
And beams on you in the goddess style.
That girl has soul, her heart is high,
And she has great thoughts in her head,
And scorn of meanness in her eye;
How sweetly gracious she can smile!
Yet she looks haughty all the while,
And beams on you in the goddess style.
Whoever spoke to Muriel, thought:
Her looks are nothing to her speech;
That girl a noble strain has got,
And soars beyond the common reach;
Yet with her high and daring mood,
And with her faith in human good,
Will she be ever understood?
Her looks are nothing to her speech;
That girl a noble strain has got,
And soars beyond the common reach;
Yet with her high and daring mood,
And with her faith in human good,
Will she be ever understood?
Was it Mary Stuart, or Joan of Arc,
Or Charlotte Corday that lived in her?
Did she bewitch with glances dark,
Or make your noblest pulses stir?
Shall he who seeks her love to win,
Ere he gather its harvest in,
Be great in spirit, or great in sin?
Or Charlotte Corday that lived in her?
Did she bewitch with glances dark,
Or make your noblest pulses stir?
Shall he who seeks her love to win,
Ere he gather its harvest in,
Be great in spirit, or great in sin?
A fair enigma! Low-browed, small,
Yet walking in her queenly grace,
You would have vowed her stately, tall,
Like Dian coming from the chase,
With bow unstrung, and flushed with pride,
The quivered arrows by her side,
Every tip with crimson dyed.
Yet walking in her queenly grace,
You would have vowed her stately, tall,
Like Dian coming from the chase,
With bow unstrung, and flushed with pride,
The quivered arrows by her side,
Every tip with crimson dyed.
Was she a flirt whose roving eyes
Entangled hearts with cunning wiles?
Or was she maiden without disguise,
Bright with sunny and artless smiles?
What was the subtle charm that wrought,
So that, hopeful or hoping nought,
Still to win her love men sought?
Entangled hearts with cunning wiles?
Or was she maiden without disguise,
Bright with sunny and artless smiles?
What was the subtle charm that wrought,
So that, hopeful or hoping nought,
Still to win her love men sought?
And when she spoke in homeliest strain,
What was the spell that held them fast?
And when she smote their hearts with pain,
What was the glamour o'er them cast,
That she had but to smile anew,
And close to her again they drew
Holding her all that is good and true?
What was the spell that held them fast?
And when she smote their hearts with pain,
What was the glamour o'er them cast,
That she had but to smile anew,
And close to her again they drew
Holding her all that is good and true?
226
Still in extremes of good or ill,
She seemed to play a fateful part;
Some felt it bliss to do her will,
Some found in it an aching heart;
But let them joy or let them ache,
The task she set them they would make
Their chiefest business for her sake.
She seemed to play a fateful part;
Some felt it bliss to do her will,
Some found in it an aching heart;
But let them joy or let them ache,
The task she set them they would make
Their chiefest business for her sake.
She did not wonder at her lot,
But, all unconscious, held her way,
Nor cared for incense that she got,
Nor heeded what the world might say:
Unwittingly her spells she wove,
And proudly lived apart, above
All the surmise of hate or love.
But, all unconscious, held her way,
Nor cared for incense that she got,
Nor heeded what the world might say:
Unwittingly her spells she wove,
And proudly lived apart, above
All the surmise of hate or love.
A beautiful enigma she,
Our Muriel, with the dark bright eyes!
And still her beauty seemed to be
Flashed on you with a fresh surprise:
And when they left her, men would look
As if inspired by some great Book
That did their meaner soul rebuke.
Our Muriel, with the dark bright eyes!
And still her beauty seemed to be
Flashed on you with a fresh surprise:
And when they left her, men would look
As if inspired by some great Book
That did their meaner soul rebuke.
| The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith | |