The Norsemen ( From Narrative and Legendary Poems ). He watched a picture come and go; And sweet Maud Muller's hazel eyes Maud Muller on a summer's day Raked the meadow sweet with hay. "No doubtful balance of rights and wrongs, Nor weary lawyers with endless tongues, "But low of cattle and song of birds, And health and quiet and loving words." "Free as when I rode that day, Where the barefoot maiden raked her hay." Maud Muller looked and sighed: "Ah me! He wedded a wife of richest dower, That I the Judge's bride might be! Till the rain on the unraked clover fell. Smoothing his horse's chestnut mane. For of all sad words of tongue or pen, The saddest are these: "It might have been!" When I was a teen I had a book called “Cathcart’s Literary Reader’ which included this, my favorite. Raked the meadow sweet with hay. When he hummed in court an old love-tune; And the young girl mused beside the well more…, All John Greenleaf Whittier poems | John Greenleaf Whittier Books. Looked out in their innocent surprise. Sometimes her narrow kitchen walls Stretched away into stately halls; The weary wheel to a spinet turned, The tallow candle an astral burned, 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, And joy was duty and love was law. On her feet so bare, and her tattered gown. 22 Oct. 2020. And she heard the little spring brook fall Beneath her torn hat glowed the wealth Of simple beauty and rustic health. "Maud Muller" Poetry.net. Ne'er hath it been my lot to meet. Dozing and grumbling o'er pipe and mug.
It is about a beautiful maid named Maud Muller. Where the barefoot maiden raked her hay.". "And her modest answer and graceful air
And the proud man sighed, and with a secret pain, "Ah, that I were free again! Left their traces on heart and brain. Singing, she wrought, and her merry glee The mock-bird echoed from his tree. We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly. Maud Muller on a summer's day And a nameless longing filled her breast,-.
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). Then she took up her burden of life again, He wedded a wife of richest dower, Who lived for fashion, as he for power. Oft, when the wine in his glass was red, But when she glanced to the far-off town She wedded a man unlearned and poor, In the shade of the apple-tree again Thanks for your vote! Each is smitten with the other. Singing, she wrought, and her merry gleee The mock-bird echoed from his tree. And his mother, vain of her rank and gold. Maud Muller on a summer's day Raked the meadow sweet with hay. For rich repiner and househole drudge! MAUD MULLER. But he thought of his sisters, proud and cold, And his mother, vain of her rank and gold. Maud Muller, on a summer's day, Raked the meadow sweet with hay. Nor weary lawyers with endless tongues, "But low of cattle and song of birds, Maud Muller looked and sighed: "Ah me! © Poems are the property of their respective owners. The Judge looked back as he climbed the hill, And oft, when the summer sun shone hot 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. STANDS4 LLC, 2020. Beneath her torn hat glowed the wealth Of simple beauty and rustic health. And joy was duty and love was law. Maud Muller on a summer's day Raked the meadow sweet with hay. For something better than she had known. "My father should wear a broadcloth coat; And health and quiet and loving words.". The Judge rode slowly down the lane, Singing, she wrought, and her merry gleee The mock-bird echoed from his tree. "Maud Muller" is a poem from 1856 written by John Greenleaf Whittier (1807–1892).
Maud Muller on a summer's day Raked the meadow sweet with hay. From a fairer hand was never quaffed.". 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! Of the apple-trees, to greet the maid. Beneath her torn hat glowed the wealth Of simple beauty and rustic health. "Ah, that I were free again! But when she glanced to the far-off town White from its hill-slope looking down, The sweet song died, and a vague unrest "No doubtful balance of rights and wrongs, But care and sorrow, and childbirth pain, Left their traces on heart and brain. The cloud in the west would bring foul weather.
And the proud man sighed, and with a secret pain, Yet oft, in his marble hearth's bright glow, Of simple beauty and rustic health.
God pity them both and pity us all, One day, while harvesting hay, she meets a judge from the local town. And the baby should have a new toy each day. He longed for the wayside well instead; And closed his eyes on his garnished rooms said the Judge; "a sweeter draught From a fairer hand was never quaffed." Alas for the maiden, alas for the Judge, For rich repiner and househole drudge! She stooped where the cool spring bubbled up, Web. So, closing his heart, the Judge rode on, And Maud was left in the field alone. Singing, she wrought, and her merry gleee Alas for the maiden, alas for the Judge, And filled for him her small tin cup. A manly form at her side she saw, God pity them both and pity us all, Who vainly the dreams of youth recall. "Would she were mine, and I to-day,
At last, like one who for delay Seeks a vain excuse, he rode away. Show her wise and good as she is fair. Stretched away into stately halls; The weary wheel to a spinet turned, Like her, a harvester of hay. "And I'd feed the hungry and clothe the poor, And all should bless me who left our door." And praise and toast me at his wine. Who lived for fashion, as he for power.
Saying only, "It might have been.". To dream of meadows and clover-blooms. Maud Muller, on a summer's day, Raked the meadows sweet with hay. John Greenleaf Whittier was an influential American Quaker poet and ardent advocate of the abolition of slavery in the United States. "He would dress me up in silks so fine, I REMEMBER SUCH A LOVE IN MY YOUTH. "A form more fair, a face more sweet, by: John Greenleaf Whittier (1807-1892) AUD MULLER, on a summer's day, Raked the meadows sweet with hay.
Copyright © 2008 - 2020 . Yet oft, in his marble hearth's bright glow, He watched a picture come and go; And sweet Maud Muller's hazel eyes Looked out in their innocent surprise. Sometimes her narrow kitchen walls The mock-bird echoed from his tree. Then she took up her burden of life again, Saying only, "It might have been." Beneath her torn hat glowed the wealth Of simple beauty and rustic health. Looked from her long-lashed hazel eyes.
She saw a rider draw his rein; And, gazing down with timid grace, "My father should wear a broadcloth coat; My brother should sail a pointed boat.
And her graceful ankles bare and brown; And listened, while a pleased surprise On the new-mown hay in the meadow lot.
And for him who sat by the chimney lug, But he thought of his sisters, proud and cold, And Maud forgot her brier-torn gown 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 a 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. "And I'd feed the hungry and clothe the poor, That I the Judge's bride might be! The judge thinks that he would like to be a local farmer married to Maud, while she thinks that she would like to be the wealthy judge's wife. "Free as when I rode that day, The saddest are these: "It might have been!". "He would dress me up in silks so fine, And praise and toast me at his wine. He spoke of the grass and flowers and trees,
For of all sad words of tongue or pen, THIS BROUGHT SWEET AND TEARFUL MEMORIES. He drew his bridle in the shade Through the meadow across the road. 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. And many children played round her door.
But the lawyers smiled that afternoon, Singing, she wrought, and her merry gleee The mock-bird … A wish that she hardly dared to own, But when she glanced to the far-off town White from its hill-slope looking down, The sweet song died, and a vague unrest And a nameless longing filled her breast,- A wish that she hardly dared to own, For something better than she had known. "And her modest answer and graceful air Show her wise and good as she is fair. And Maud forgot her brier-torn gown And her graceful ankles bare and brown; And listened, while a pleased surprise Looked from her long-lashed hazel eyes. Register now and publish your best poems or read and bookmark your favorite popular famous poems. "Thanks!" The Judge looked back as he climbed the hill, And saw Maud Muller standing still. At last, like one who for delay She stooped where the cool spring bubbled up, And filled for him her small tin cup, And blushed as she gave it, looking down On her feet so bare, and her tattered gown. And all should bless me who left our door.". The Judge rode slowly down the lane, Smoothing his horse's chestnut mane.
Over the roadside, through a wall. All Rights Reserved.
My brother should sail a pointed boat.
She wedded a man unlearned and poor, And many children played round her door. Ah, well! The tallow candle an astral burned. https://www.poetry.net/poem/22971/maud-muller. "Would she were mine, and I to-day, Like her, a harvester of hay. But when she glanced to the far-off town, White from its hill-slope looking down, The sweet song died, and a vague unrest "Thanks!"
Maud Muller on a summer's day Raked the meadow sweet with hay. All may have a memory of a 'love lost' of which they wonder what would have happened. "A form more fair, a face more sweet, Ne'er hath it been my lot to meet. 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.
Deeply buried from human eyes; And, in the hereafter, angels may Who vainly the dreams of youth recall. White from its hill-slope looking down, The sweet song died, and a vague unrest But care and sorrow, and childbirth pain, He drew his bridle in the shade Of the apple-trees, to greet the maid, And asked a draught from the spring that flowed Through the meadow across the road.
"I'd dress my mother so grand and gay, And asked a draught from the spring that flowed Seeks a vain excuse, he rode away. said the Judge; "a sweeter draught Beneath her torn hat glowed the wealth Of simple beauty and rustic health. And Maud was left in the field alone. Ah, well! This poem has not been translated into any other language yet. 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. She felt his pleased eyes read her face. And saw Maud Muller standing still. Beneath her torn hat glowed the wealth Of simple beauty and rustic health. So, closing his heart, the Judge rode on,
Beneath her torn hat glowed the wealth Of simple beauty and rustic health. for us all some sweet hope lies And blushed as she gave it, looking down Of the singing birds and the humming bees; Then talked of the haying, and wondered whether We truly appreciate your support. "I'd dress my mother so grand and gay, And the baby should have a new toy each day.
Beneath her torn hat glowed the wealth