";s:4:"text";s:3743:" Singing, she wrought, and her merry gleee The mock-bird … But the lawyers smiled that afternoon, https://www.poetry.net/poem/22971/maud-muller. Of the apple-trees, to greet the maid. Beneath her torn hat glowed the wealth Of simple beauty and rustic health. And praise and toast me at his wine. All Rights Reserved. Maud Muller on a summer's day Raked the meadow sweet with hay. "Free as when I rode that day, Where the barefoot maiden raked her hay." On the new-mown hay in the meadow lot. And the proud man sighed, and with a secret pain, It is about a beautiful maid named Maud Muller. And joy was duty and love was law.
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.
"Would she were mine, and I to-day, Like her, a harvester of hay.
"He would dress me up in silks so fine, And praise and toast me at his wine. When I was a teen I had a book called “Cathcart’s Literary Reader’ which included this, my favorite. Saying only, "It might have been.". But he thought of his sisters, proud and cold, All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge... Recite this poem (upload your own video or voice file). 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! But the lawyers smiled that afternoon, When he hummed in court an old love-tune; And the young girl mused beside the well Till the rain on the unraked clover fell. God pity them both and pity us all,
Maud Muller, on a summer's day, Raked the meadows sweet with hay. She wedded a man unlearned and poor, And many children played round her door. To dream of meadows and clover-blooms. But when she glanced to the far-off town Nor weary lawyers with endless tongues, "But low of cattle and song of birds,
And a nameless longing filled her breast,-. Smoothing his horse's chestnut mane. And saw Maud Muller standing still.
Deeply buried from human eyes; And, in the hereafter, angels may "Maud Muller" Poetry.net.
Singing, she wrought, and her merry gleee The mock-bird echoed from his tree. She saw a rider draw his rein; And, gazing down with timid grace, "Free as when I rode that day, For of all sad words of tongue or pen, The saddest are these: "It might have been!" for us all some sweet hope lies Stretched away into stately halls; The weary wheel to a spinet turned, From a fairer hand was never quaffed.". Read poems about / on: spring, summer, tree, song, thanks, mother, weather, horse, pain, baby, brother, girl, sometimes, sorrow, sad, father, power, children, rain, beauty, Maud Muller Poem by John Greenleaf Whittier - Poem Hunter. Dozing and grumbling o'er pipe and mug.