Vermont farmer. [volume] (Newport, Orleans County, Vt.) 1870-1877, 1876-03-31
Printed by request.
MAUD MULLER.
BY J. O. WHITTIER.


Maud Muller, on a summers day,
Raked the meadow sweet with hsy.
Beneath her torn hat glowed the wealth
or simple beauty and rustic health.
Singing, she wrought, and hOr merry glec
The moek-bird echoed from his tree.
But whom she glanced to tho lar-oir town,
White from its hll.slope looking down,
The sweet song diod, aud vague unrest
And nameloss longing filled her breast,-
A wish, that she hardly dared to own,
For something better than sho had known.
The Judge rode slowly down the lane
Smoothing his horses chestnut name.
He drew his bride in the shade
Ofthe Apple-trees to greet the maid,
And ask draught from tho spring that flowed
Through the meadow across the road.
She stopped where the cool spring bubbled up,
And Allied for him her small tin cup,
And blushed as she gave 1t, looking down
On her feet so bare aud her tatterod gown.
"Thanks!' said the Judge, "a sWestor draught
From fairer hand was mover quafied"
He spoke Of the grass and flowers and trees,
Orthe singing birds and the humming bessi
They talked Of the hAying, and wondered whether
The cloud in tho west would bring foul weather.
And Maud forgot her briar-torn gown,
And her graceful ankles bare and brown
And listened, while pleased surprise
Looked from her long-laShed hazel eyes.
la I'LL o,. ,-ho r.. dato,.
Seeks vain excuse, he rode away.
Maud Muller locked and sighed; "Ah me
That the Jadges bride might DO
'Ho would dress me up in silks so fine,
And praise and toast me at his wine.
"My father should wear broadcloth cloak
Ny brother should sail painted boat.
"Id dress my neither so grand and gay,
And the baby should have a new toy each day.
"AAd I'd feed the hungry and clothe the poor,
And all should bless me who left our doSr."
Tho Judge looked back as he climbed the hill
And saw Maud Muller standing still.
"a form more fair, face more sweet,
Meier hath it been my lot to meet.
"And her modest answer and graceful air
Show her wise and good as she Is lair.
"woud she were mine, and to-day,
Like her, harvester OF hay:
"No doubtful balance of rights and wrongs,
Nor weary lawyers with endless tongues,
'Rut 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 other 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-tuSei
And the young girl unused beside the we'll,
Till the rain on tho unraked clover foil.
lie welded wife of richest dover,
Who lived for fashion, as he for power.
Yet Oft, in his marble hearth's bright glow,
lie watched picture come and gOi
And sweet Maud Muller's hazel eyos
Looked out in their innocent surprise.
OF, when the wine in his glass was red
lie longod for the wayside we'll instead
And closed his eyes on his garnlshod rooms,
To dream Of meadows and clover-blooms.
And the proud man sighed, with a secret pain,
"Ah, that were free again!
"Free as when I rode that day,
Where the barefoot maiden raked her hay"
She welded a man unlOarned and poor,
And many children played round her door.
But care and sorrow, and childbirth pain,
Left their traces on heart and brain.
And of, 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 appe-tree again
She saw rider draw his rein.
And, gazing down with timid grace,
She folt his pleased eyes read her face
Sometimes her narrow kitchen walls
Stretched away into stately halls
The weary wheel TO spnet turned,
Tho talloW candle an astral burned,
And for him who sat by the chimney lug,
Doing and grumblng Ger pipe and mug,
Amanly form AZ her side she saw,
And joy was duty and love was law.
Then she took up her burden of life again,
Saying only, at might have been"
Alas for maiden, alas for Judge,
For rich repiner and household drudge!
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 there, at might have been"
All, we'll for US all some sweet hope lies
Deeply buried from human eyes,
And, In the hereafter, angels may
Roll the stone from It's grave away
The School-master.
Every sound of his noisy flock had