Maud Muller worked at making hay, And cleared her forty cents a day. Her clothes were coarse, but her health was fine, And so she worked in the sweet sunshine Singing as glad as a bird in May "Barbara Allen" the livelong day. She often glanced at the far-off town, And wondered if eggs were up or down. And the sweet song died of a strange disease, Leaving a phantom taste of cheese, And an appetite and a nameless ache For soda-water and ginger cake. The judge rode slowly into view -- Stopped his horse in the shade and threw His fine-cut out, while the blushing Maud Marveled much at the kind he "chawed." "He was dry as a fish," he said with a wink, "And kind o' thought that a good square drink Would brace him up." So the cup was filled With the crystal wine that old spring spilled; And she gave it him with a sun-browned hand. "Thanks," said the judge in accents bland; "A thousand thanks! for a sweeter draught, From a fairer hand" -- but there he laughed. And the sweet girl stood in the sun that day, And raked the judge instead of the hay. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SONNET by RICHARD WATSON GILDER THE GRAVE OF COLUMBUS by JOANNA BAILLIE THE OLD MAID by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) ROBIN'S SECRET by KATHARINE LEE BATES POET FLAYS TEMPTATIONS OF CITY LIFE by MORRIS GILBERT BISHOP A WESTERN WASTE by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE THE FOURE MONARCHIES: ASSYRIAN. SEMIRAMIS by ANNE BRADSTREET |