Putnam's Monthly, àÅèÁ·Õè 8G.P. Putnam & Company, 1857 |
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˹éÒ 405 - Take her up tenderly, Lift her with care; Fashioned so slenderly, Young, and so fair! Ere her limbs frigidly Stiffen too rigidly, Decently, — kindly, — Smooth, and compose them, And her eyes, close them, Staring so blindly ! Dreadfully staring Through muddy impurity, As when with the daring Last look of despairing Fixed on futurity.
˹éÒ 27 - 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.
˹éÒ 27 - It 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 these :
˹éÒ 26 - The Judge looked back as he climbed the hill, And saw Maud Muller standing still. "A form more fair, a face more 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.
˹éÒ 126 - Why all this toil for triumphs of an hour ? What though we wade in wealth, or soar in fame ? Earth's highest station ends in, " Here he lies," And " Dust to dust
˹éÒ 21 - We dare not go a-hunting, For fear of little men: Wee folk, good folk, Trooping all together, Green jacket, red cap, And white owl's feather!
˹éÒ 26 - MAUD MULLER, on a summer's day, Raked the meadow sweet with hay. Beneath her torn hat glowed the wealth Of simple beauty and rustic health. Singing, she wrought, and her merry glee The mock-bird echoed from his tree. 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. The Judge rode slowly down the lane,...
˹éÒ 26 - 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. And Maud forgot her...
˹éÒ 25 - Than all the dreams that held my youth A still repining debtor : That Nature gives her handmaid, Art, The themes of sweet discoursing ; The tender idyls of the heart In every tongue rehearsing. Why dream of lands of gold and pearl, Of loving knight and lady, When farmer boy and barefoot girl Were wandering there already ? I saw through all familiar things The romance underlying ; The joys and griefs that plume the wings Of Fancy skyward flying.
˹éÒ 26 - And ask a draught from the spring that flowed Through the meadow across the road. 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. "Thanks!" said the Judge, "a sweeter draught From a fairer hand was never quaffed.