Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1855-02-15
POETRY.
tFrom the National Era, December 2S.l
@s MAUD MULLER.


tFrom the National Era, December 2s.l
et MAUD MULLER.
Maud Muller, on a summers day
\ Raked the meadow sweet with hay.
Beneath her torn hat glowod the wealth
OF simple beauty and rustic health
Singing, she wrought, and her merry gloe
The mock bird echoed from every tree.
But, when she glanced to the far off town.
White from its hil-slcpe 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.
He drow his bride in the shade
OF the applo-trees, to greet the maid,
And ask draught from the spring that flowed
Through the meadow, across tie road.
She stopped where the cool spring bubbled up,
And filled for him her small lin cup,
And blushoG us she gave it, looking down
On her feet so bare and her ta,tt red gown
Thanks" sud the Judge, "A sweetet draught
From q i.lrer hand was Fever 1ua!ltd.'
lie spoke Of the grass and ii rwcts and trees,
Ofthe singing birds and the humming bees;
Then talked of the haying, and wondered whether
The cloud in the west would bring foul weather,
hndsMaud forgot her bIicr-;orn gown,
And her graceiul ankles bare and brown;
And listened, willie pleased surprise
Looked rom her ong.aslcd hazel eyes.
At last, like one who fer delay
Seeks vain excuse, he role away.
Maud Muller looked and sighed: All me.
That the Judges bride might be!
~IIe would dress mo up in silks so fine,
And praise and toast ne al Ills WING.
r MY father should wear a hroadcloth coat;
My brother should sail painted boat,
Nd dress my mother so grand aml gay
And the baby should have new 10y each day.
"And I'd feed the hungry nnI c|o;he the poor,
And all should bles. me who left our door,'
ne Judge lOCktu pech us HC ClliillIcu l!lc Hlii
And saw Maud Muller Standing still.
"A form more fair, face more sweet,
Neer hath it been my lot 10 meet,
And her modest answer and graceful air
Show her wise and good us she is fair
"Would she were mine, and to-day,
Like her, harvester o! hay;
"No doubtful balances Of ishtS and wrcngs,
Nor weary lawyers with endless tonGI
But low Of cattle and song OF BIRDS
And health and quiet and loving Words
But he thought Of his sister, proud and cold,
And his mother. vain OF her rank and gold.
So, closing his heart, the Judge rode on.
And Maud was left in the field alone.
But tho lawyers smiled that afternoon.
When he hummed in court an old low tune;
And the young grlmused beside the ,ll,
Till the ruin on the unraked clover fell
lie welded a wife of richest dover,
Who lived for fashion, US he Tor power
Yet oft, in his marble hearhs bright glow,
He watched picture come and 30;
And sweet Maud Muller's hazel eyes
Looked out in their innocent surprise.
Oft, when the wine in his glass was red,
lie longed for the waysile well Instead;
And closed his eyes on his garnished rooms,
TO dream Of meadows and clover blooms.
And the proud man sighed with secret pain!
."Ah, that were free again!
"Free as when rode that day,
Where the barefoot maiden raked tho hay"
She welded man unlearned and poor,
Aud many children played round her door.
But care and sorrow, and childbirth pain
D.elt their traces on heart and brain,
And oft, when the summer sun shone hot
On the new-mown hay in the meadow lot,
And she heard the little spring brook fall
Over the roadside, through the wall,
In the shade Of the apple'tree again
She saw rider draw his rein.
And, gazing down with timid grace,
She felt his pleased eyes read her lace.
Sometimes her narrow kitchen walls
Stretched away into stately halls;
The weary wheelto spinnet turned,
The talow candle an usIral burned,
And for him who sat by the chimney-lug,
Doing and grumbling DER pipe and mug,
A manly form at her side she saw,
And Joy was duty and love and law.
Then she took up her burden OF life again.
Saying only, 1T might have besn"
Alas, for maiden, alas for Judges,
For rich repiner and household drudge!
God pity themboth and pity US all,
Who vainly the dreams Of youth recall.
For Of oil sad words Of tongue or pen,