The daily dispatch. [volume] (Richmond [Va.]) 1850-1884, 1855-01-19
MAUD MULLER.
BYJoHN G. WHITTIER.

Raked the meadow sweet with hay,
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 every tree.
But, when she glanced to the far-off town,
White from its hill slope looking down,
The sweet song died, and vague unrest
And a nameless longing filled her breast
wish, that she hardly dared to own,
For something better than she had known.
The Judge rode slowly down the lane,
Smoothing bis horses chesnut name.
He 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 cool spring dubbed up,
And filled for him her small tin cup,
Aud blushed as she gave it, looking down
On her feet 80 bare, and her tattered gown.
'Thanks!" said the Judge, "a sweeter draught
From fairer hand was never quatted."
He spoke of the grass and flowers and trees,
Of the singing birds and the humming bees;
Then talked of the haying, and wondered whether
The cloud in the west would bring foul weather.
And Maud forgot her briar torn gown,
And her graceful ANGLES bare and brown;
And listened, while pleased surprise
Looked from her long dashed hazel eyes.
At last like one for delay
Seeks vain excuse, he rode away.
Maud Muller looked and sighed: "Ah me
That the Judges bridge might be!
'He would dress me up In silks SO fine,
And praise and toast me at his wine.
envy father should wear broadcloth coat;
My brother should sail painted boat.
"Id dress my mother so grand and gay,
And the baby should have new toy each day.
"And I'd feed the hungry and clothe the poor,
Ill IL rxybr 1afrD l01r
The Judge looked backed as he climbed the bill.
And saw Maud Muller standing still.
"a form more fair face more sweet,
Meier hath 1t been my lot to meet.
''And her modest answer and graceful air
Show her wise and good as sheis fair.
"Would she were mine, and | today,
Like her, harvester of hay;
'No doubtful balance of rights and wrongs,
Nor weary lawyers with endless tongues.
"Butlow 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 the lawyers smiled that afternoon,
When he hummed in court an old love tune:
And the young girl unused beside the well,
Till the rain on the unraked clover fell.
He wedd ed awife of richest dover,
Who lived for fashion, as he for power.
Yet, oft. in his marble hearth's bright glow,
He watched apicture come and go;
And sweet Maud Muer's hazel eyes
Looked out in their innocent surprise.
Oft, when the wine in his glass was red,
He longed for the waysde well instead;
And closed his eyes on his garnished rooms,
To dream of meadows and clover brooms
And the proud man sighed, with secret pain;
tAh, that were free againl
"Free as when rode that day,
Where the barefoot maiden raked the hay"
She welded man unearned and poor,
And many children played round her door.
But care and sorrow, and childbirth pain,
Left 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 tall
Over the roadside, through the wall,
In the shade of the apple tree again,
She saw rider draw his rein,
And, gazing down with a timid grace
She felt his pleased eyes read her face.
Sometimes her narrow kitchen walls
Stretched away into stately halle;
The weary wheel to spinnet turned,
The tallow candle an astral burned,
And for him who sat by the chimney lug,
Doing and grumbling DER pipe and mug,
manly form at her side she saw,
And joy was duty and love and law.
Then she took up her burden of lite again,
Saying only, st might have BEEN"
Alas for maiden alas for Judge,
For rich repiner and household drudgel
God pity them both and pity us all,
Who vainly the dreams OF youth recall.
For of all sad words of tongue or pen,
The saddest are these: sit might have been!"
All, well for us all some sweet hope lies
Deeply buried from human eyes;
And, In the hereafter, angels may
Roll the stone from its grave away!