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Nell's Clare

Poetry By: Eilidh Hart
Poetry



This is a spin-off (sequel) to the poem 'Maude Clare' by CG Rossetti. I recommend reading 'Maude Clare', as it's a brilliant poem and will help you understand my spin-off. As always, constructive criticism appreciated. Thanks for reading :)


Submitted:Aug 26, 2012    Reads: 3    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   


Delicate anguish laces his heart

Cards lie dusted on the table

Maude Clare lies dusted in her beck

Her fate soured our rotting fable

Once did I meet his fair queen

Sarcasm glittered on her eloquent tongue

Embittered by regret he said none

Empowered by freedom, liberty she sung

Overwhelmed by confusion falsehoods I told

On the day I met her I dressed as a bride

I wish to plunge into the river singing to her:

"For a fleeting moment again would our lives collide

"Instead of conceited pride in rigid tones

I'd bow down and kiss your hand

I'd nurture your faded lily leaves to blossom

I'd carve you a chain from golden sand

"I'd leave Thomas to his ghostly halls

I'd take your hand and dance past Mother

I'd show you love not paltry

Maude Clare, should my feelings have cover?"

Facades are up on Christmas morning

In our valley? A romantic stroll

He knew by the way I held his hand

I pretended he was you, I confessed all

"Nell, you understand? You should've told

Mother will be so mad it's horribly drole

Though love is love, how could I scold?"

He comforted me through premature mourning

I peeked through the distorted window

Mother was nowhere to be seen

Bold and delighted to meet my love again

Tortured by his harrowing scream

Maude Clare, Maude Clare, Oh my Clare

Gone again, deep into the fog

If I'd not been afraid of Mother

We'd be together; hearth fire and hound dog

Lilies drape across your pale body

Skin whiter than the lightest petal

Floating gracelessly along your beck

Conflicted agony taunts my mortal rebuttal

I'm quivering on the precipice, Maude Clare

You are still wiser and much more fair

Into the lake and along the beck?

Does your blue-tinged corpse even care?

"And when you love," I sing to you, "I'll love

And when you jump, I'll jump;

For you're my lady for better and worse

And I love you Maude Clare"





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