HYMN OF NATURE. Thou art where billows foam, Thou art where music melts upon the air; Thou art around us in our peaceful home, And the world calls us forth-and thou art there. Thou art where friend meets friend, Beneath the shadow of the elm to rest Thou art where foe meets foe, and trumpets rend The skies, and swords beat down the princely crest. Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the north-wind's breath, Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death! HYMN OF NATURE.-PEABODY. GOD of the earth's extended plains! Where man might commune with the sky; The tall cliff challenges the storm That lowers upon the vale below, God of the dark and heavy deep! The waves lie sleeping on the sands, Till the fierce trumpet of the storm Hath summoned up their thundering bands; God of the forest's solemn shade! 101 But more majestic far they stand, When, side by side, their ranks they form, To wave on high their plumes of green, And fight their battles with the storm. God of the light and viewless air! The fierce and wintry tempests blow; God of the fair and open sky! How gloriously above us springs God of the rolling orbs above! Thy name is written clearly bright And every spark that walks alone God of the world! the hour must come, Her crumbling altars must decay; Her incense fires shall cease to burn; But still her grand and lovely scenes For hearts grow holier as they trace MAUD MULLER. MAUD MULLER.-JOHN G. WHITTIER. MAUD MULLER, on a summer's day, Raked the meadow sweet with hay. 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 asked a draught from the spring that flowed 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, 103 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! "He would dress me up in silks so fine, And praise and toast me at his wine. "My father would wear a broadcloth coat; My brother should sail a painted boat. "I'd dress my mother so grand and gay, "And I'd feed the hungry, and clothe the poor, And all should bless me who left the door." The Judge looked back as he climbed the hill, "A form more fair, a face more sweet, Ne'er has it been my lot to meet. "And her modest answer and graceful air Show her wise and good as she is fair. "Would she were mine, and I to-day Like her, a harvester of hay! "No doubtful balance of rights and wrongs, Nor weary lawyers with endless tongues; MAUD MULLER. "But low of cattle and song of birds, And health, and quiet, and loving words." But he thought of his sisters proud and cold, 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 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 summer sun shone hot And she heard the little spring-brook fall 105 |