Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1930-03-27

an American poet, author OF 'Snowoouno
and other popular verseso
Maud Muller, on Summers day,
raked the meadow sweet with hay. Be-
meath her torn hat glowed the wealth
of simple beauty and rustic health.
Singing, she wrought, and her merry
slee the mockingbird echoed from his
But. when she glanced to the far-off
town, white from its hillSlope looking
down, the sweet song died, and vague
unrest and nameless longing filled her
breast.
A wish. that she hardly dared to
own, Tor something better than she had
,.nown. The Judge rode slowly down
the lane, smoothing his horses chest
nut name. He drew his bride in the
shade Of the apple trees to greet the
maid, and ask draft 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. And nlusfed as she gave it,
looking down on her feet so bare, and
her tattered gown.
''Thanks!' said the judge "a sweeter
draft from fairer hand was never
Qlaffed."
He spoke of the grass and flowers and
trees, Of the singing birds and the hum
ming bees; then talked of the haying,
and wondered whether the cloud In
the west would bring foul weather.
And Maud fo<got her briar-torn gown,
and her graceful ankles bare and
brown; and listened, while a pleased
surprise looked from her long-lashed
hazel eyes.
At last, like one who for delay seeks
vain excuse, he rode away.
Maud Muller looked and sighed: "Ah,
mel That I the judges bride might
be! He would dress me up in silks so
fine, and praise and toast me at his
wine. NV father should wear broad
cloth coat, my brother should sail a
painted boat. I'd dress my mother so
grand and gay, and the baby should
have a new toy each day. And I'd
feed the hungry and clothe the poor,
and all should bless me who left our
The Judge looked back as he climbed
the hill, and saw Maui Muller stand
ing still.
sweet, ne'er hath it been my lot to
meet. And her modest answer and
graceful air show her wise and good as
She is fair. Would she were mine, and
I today, like her, a harvester of hay;
no doubtful balance Of rights and
wrongs, nor weary lawyers with end
less 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 gold. So. closing his heart,
the judge rode on, and Maud was left
in the field alone.
But the lawyers smiled that after
noon, when he l1ummed in court an old
love tune; and the young girl unused
beside the we'll till the rain on the I'M
raked clover fell.
He welded a wife Of richest dover,
who lived for fashion, as he for power.
Yet oft, in his marble hearth's bright
glow he watched a picture come and
60; and sweet Maud Muller's hazel eyes
looked out in their innocent surprise.
Oft, when the wine in his glass was red,
he longed for the wayside well instead;
and closed his eyes on his garnished
rooms to dream of meadows and clover
blooms
And the proud man sighed, with se-
cret pain, "Ah, that were free again!
Free as when I rode that day where
the barefoot maiden raked her hay"
She welded a man unlearned 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 fall over
the roadside, through the wall, in the
shade Of the apple tree again she saw a
rider draw his rein.
And gazing down with timid grace,
she felt his pleased eyes read her face.
Sometimes her narrow kitchen walls
stretched away into stately halls; the
weary wheel to a spinnet turned, the tall
low candle an astral burned, and for him
who sat by the chimney lug, doing
and grumbling Ger pipe and mug, a
manly form at her side she saw, and
Joy was duty and love was law.
Then she took her burden of life
again, saying only, 1T might have
been"
Alas for maiden, alas for Judge, for