I will not blazon forth thy sacred name, Holding thee up for wonder to the mood Of those poor fools whose darts of malice strewed Thy path of life, and I will but hint it dimly. might thy grave defame; Love's pure flame Will shine as brightly, though the spicy wood For, to all light man's reverence is the same. Over the sorrows of my mournful line, Some wretch whose fortune has been sad as mine, Wondering, meanwhile, what gentle name may sleep Under my phrase, the homage shall be thine, Though my sealed lips thy mystic title keep. All the world's malice, all the spite of fate, Upon the crumbling fortunes of our state, To snatch this myrtle chaplet, or to blast The poet's laurel, and before their date my doom. For, with this myrtle symbol of my love, The petty fates that other joys consume. As on a flowery path, through life I'll move, 472 JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER. 1808. ["The Panorama, and other Poems." 1856.] MAUD MULLER. MAUD MULLER, on a summer's day, Beneath her torn hat glowed the wealth Singing, she wrought, and her merry glee But, when she glanced to the far-off town, The sweet song died, and a vague unrest A wish, that she hardly dared to own, The Judge rode slowly down the lane, He drew his bridle in the shade Of the apple-trees, to greet the maid, And ask a draught from the spring that flowed Through the meadow across the road. She stooped where the cool spring bubbled up, And blushed as she gave it, looking down "Thanks!" said the Judge, "a sweeter draught From a fairer hand was never quaffed." He spoke of the grass and flowers and trees, Then talked of the haying, and wondered whether The cloud in the west would bring foul weather. And Maud forgot her brier-torn gown, And listened, while a pleased surprise At last, like one who for delay Seeks a vain excuse, he rode away. Maud Muller looked and sighed: "Ah, me! That I the Judge's bride might be! "He would dress me up in silks so fine, And praise and toast me at his wine. "My father should wear a broadcloth coat; My brother should sail a painted boat. -N&l balance of res and wrLA, - But low of cattle and waz of Malk And health and quiet and bring words" But he thought of his sisters prond and cold, And his mother vain of her rank and gold. So, closing his heart, the Judge rode on, But the lawyers smiled that afternoon, And the young girl mused beside the well, He wedded a wife of richest dower, Yet oft, in his marble hearth's bright glow, And sweet Maud Muller's hazel eyes Oft, when the wine in his glass was red, And closed his eyes on his garnished rooms, 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, But care and sorrow, and childbirth pain, And oft, when the summer sun shone hot And she heard the little spring brook fall In the shade of the apple-tree again And, gazing down with timid grace, Sometimes her narrow kitchen walls |