Page:Complete Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier (1895).djvu/79

Rh And lo!—with sudden warmth and light
 * A tender memory thrilled his frame;

New-born, the world-lost anchorite
 * A man became.

“O sister of El Zara’s race,
 * Behold me!—had we not one mother?”

She gazed into the stranger’s face:
 * “Thou art my brother!”

“O kin of blood! Thy life of use
 * And patient trust is more than mine;

And wiser than the gray recluse
 * This child of thine.

“For, taught of him whom God hath sent,
 * That toil is praise and love is prayer,

I come, life’s cares and pains content
 * With thee to share.”

Even as his foot the threshold crossed
 * The hermit’s better life began;

Its holiest saint the Thebaid lost,
 * And found a man!

on a summer’s day Raked the meadow sweet with hay.

Beneath her torn hat glowed the health 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 tilled her breast,—

A wish that she hardly dared to own, For something better than she had known.

The Judge rode slowly down the lane, Smoothing his horse’s chestnut mane.

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.

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.”

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 brier-torn gown, And her graceful ankles bare and brown;

And listened, while a pleased surprise Looked from her long-lashed hazel eyes.

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.