155 But, husked by Death in the Planter's sight, Be sown again in the fields of light!" The Island still is purple with plums, The sturgeon leaps, and the wild-fowl feeds 160 On hillside berries and marish seeds, All the beautiful signs remain, From spring-time sowing to autumn rain 165 That the Silent Angel who garners man X. MAUD MULLER. MAUD MULLER, on a summer's day, Beneath her torn hat glowed the wealth 5 Singing she wrought, and her merry glee The mock-bird echoed from his tree. But when she glanced to the far-off town, The sweet song died, and a vague unrest to And a nameless longing filled her breast, A wish, that she hardly dared to own, The Judge rode slowly down the lane, 15 He drew his bridle in the shade Of the apple-trees, to greet the maid, And asked a draught from the spring that flowed She stooped where the cool spring bubbled up, 20 And filled for him her small tin cup, And blushed as she gave it, looking down "Thanks!" said the Judge; 66 a sweeter draught From a fairer hand was never quaffed." 25 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 And Maud forgot her brier-torn gown, 30 And her graceful ankles bare and brown; And listened, while a pleased surprise At last, like one who for delay Seeks a vain excuse, he rode away. 35 Maud Muller looked and sighed: “Ah me! That I the Judge's bride might be! "He would dress me up in silks so fine, "My father should wear a broadcloth coat 40 My brother should sail a painted boat. "I'd dress my mother so grand and gay, "And I'd feed the hungry and clothe the poor, And all should bless me who left our door." 45 The Judge looked back as he climbed the hill, And saw Maud Muller standing still. "A form more fair, a face more sweet, "And her modest answer and graceful air 50 Show her wise and good as she is fair. "Would she were mine, and I to-day, "No doubtful balance of rights and wrongs, 55" But low of cattle and song of birds, And health and quiet and loving words." But he thought of his sisters proud and cold, So, closing his heart, the Judge rode on, 50 And Maud was left in the field alone. But the lawyers smiled that afternoon, And the young girl mused beside the well 65 He wedded a wife of richest dower, Who lived for fashion, as he for power. Yet oft, in his marble hearth's bright glow, And sweet Maud Muller's hazel eyes 70 Looked out in their innocent surprise. Oft, when the wine in his glass was red, And closed his eyes on his garnished rooms 75 And the proud man sighed, with a secret pain, "Ah, that I were free again! "Free as when I rode that day, Where the barefoot maiden raked her hay." She wedded a man unlearned and poor, 80 And many children played round her door. But care and sorrow, and childbirth pain, And oft, when the summer sun shore hot 85 And she heard the little spring brook fall Over the roadside, through the wall, In the shade of the apple-tree again And, gazing down with timid grace, go She felt his pleased eyes read her face. Sometimes her narrow kitchen walls The weary wheel to a spinnet turned, 95 And for him who sat by the chimney lug, Dozing and grumbling o'er pipe and mug, A manly form at her side she saw, Then she took up her burden of life again, 100 Saying only, "It might have been." Alas for maiden, alas for Judge, God pity them both! and pity us all, |