The Cadiz Democratic sentinel. [volume] (Cadiz, Ohio) 1854-1864, 1855-03-14
@boife 1Joetrn.
MAUD MULLER.

Beneath her torn hat glowed the wealth
Of simple beauty and rustic health.
Singing she wrought, and her merry glee
The mock-bird echoed from HE tree
But, when she glanced to the far-ofr town.
White from It's hill-slope looking down,
The sweet song died, and vague unrest
And nameless longing filled her breast
A wish, that she hardly dared to own,
For something better than she had known.
The Judge rode slowly down the lane,
Smoothing his horses chestnut name.
lie drew his bride in the shade
OF the apple trees, to greet the maid,
And ask draught from the spring that flowed
Through the meadow, across the road.
She stopped where the COO! spring bubbled up,
And filled for him her small tin cup
And blushed as she gave it, looking down
On her teetso bare and her tatterod gown.
"Thanks," said the Judge "o sweeter draught
From iairer hand was never qu fled"
He spoke'o of the grass and flowers and trees,
Of the singing birds and humming bcosi
They talked ofthe haying. and wondered whethe
The cloud in the west would bring foul weather
And Maud forgot her brier. torn gown,
And her graceful ankles bare ana brewn;
And listened, while pleasing surprise
Looked from her long g-lnshed hazel eyes.
At last, like one who for delay
S.cks vain excuse he rode away.
Maud Muller looked and sighed "Ahme!
That | the Judges bride might be!
''He would dress me up in silks so fine,
And praise and toast ne at his wine.
"My father should wear abroadcloth coat
My brother should sail a painted boat.
sid dress my mother so grand and gay,
And the baby shoull have new toy each day.
"And I'd feed the hungry and clothe tho poor,
And all should bless me who left our toor.h
The j lgo looked back as he climbed the hill,
And he saw Maud Muller standing still.
"a form more fair, a face more sweet,
Ne'er hath it benny lot to meet.
"And her modest answer and graceful air
Show her wise and good as she is fair,
iWould shs were mine and to day
Like hor, a harvester OF hay;
mo doubtful balance of rights and wroags,
Nor weary lawyers with entIess tongues,
But low of cattle and song Of birds,
And health and quiet and loving words"
"But he thought of his sisters proud and cold,
And his mother vain OF her rank and gid.
So, closing his art, the Judge rode on,
And Maud WIS loft in the deld alone.
But the lawyers smiled that afternoon,
When he hummed in court and old love tune;
And the young girl unused beside the well,
Till the rain on the unrnkGd clover fell
He welded wife ofrichest dover
Who lived for fashion, as ne for power.
Yet oft, in his marble hearth bright glow,
He watched picture come and 90:
And sweet Maud Mullers hazel eyes
Looked out in their innocent surprise.
Oft when the wine in his glass was red,
lie longed for the wayside well insteadi
And closed his eyes on his garnishel rooms,
To dream Of meadows and clover. blooms.
And the proud man sighed, with secret pains,
"Ah that were free again!
Free as when rode that day,
Whcro the barefoot maiden raked her hay"
She welded man unloarnod and poor,
isAnd many children played rounShcr door.
But care and sorrow, and child birth pain,
Loft their traces on heart and brain.
And oft when the summer sun shsne hot
On the new-mown hay in the meadow lot,
And she heard the little spring.b brook fall
Over the roadside through the wall,
In the shade Of the apple-tree again
She saw rider draw his rain
And, gazing down with timid graces
She felt his pleased eyes read her face.
Sometimes her narrow kitchenwalls
Stretched away into stately halls;
The weary wheel to spinntt turned,
The tallow candle an astral burned,
And for who sat by the chimney lug.
Doing and grumbling o'ef pipe and mug.
A manly form at her sido she saw,
And Joy was duty and love was law.
Then she took up her barden ofllfe again,
Saying only, "it might have been"
Alas for the mniden, alas for Judge,
10, rich repiner and household drudge!
God pity then both! and pity US all,
Who yainly the dreams Of youth recall.
For Of all sad w,rds Of tongue or pen
The saddest are these; at might have been!"
ansAh, well! for US all some sweet hope lies
Deeply buried froin human eyes,
And, in the hearaiter, angels may
Roll the stone from its grave away!
HOPE.
The night ia mother Of the day,
The winter of the spring;
And ever upon old decny
The greeAest mosses clingS
Behind the cloud the starlight turks,
Through showers the sunbeams fall;
For Cod who loyeih all bis works,
Has left his hope for al.
e1~1>f~ N-~1~~S~cNc~r~
A Fragment.
sTis sweet. from out the wreck OF years,
Tocal each withered token,
And gather up store Of tears,