This is one of my favorite poems. I acctually just discovered it the other day, and since I first read it, Maud Muller has moved up to the top of my favorites list.

Emily

MAUD MULLER

by: John Greenleaf Whittier (1807-1892)

AUD MULLER, on a summer's day,

Raked the meadows 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,

Smoothing his horse's chestnut mane.

 

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 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 briar-torn gown,

And her graceful ankles bare and brown;

 

And listened, while a pleasant 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.

 

"I'd dress my mother so grand and gay,

And the baby should have a new toy each day.

 

"And I'd feed the hungry and clothe the poor,

And all should bless me who left our door."

 

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.

 

"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,

 

"But low of cattle, and song of birds,

And health, and quiet, and loving words."

 

But he thought of his sisters, proud and cold,

And his mother, vain of her rank and gold.

 

So, closing his heart, the Judge rode on,

And Maud was left in the field alone.

 

But the lawyers smiled that afternoon,

When he hummed in court an old love-tune;

 

And the young girl mused beside the well,

Till the rain on the unraked clover fell.

 

He wedded a wife of richest dower,

Who lived for fashion, as he for power.

 

Yet oft, in his marble hearth's bright glow,

He watched a picture come and go:

 

And sweet Maud Muller's hazel eyes

Looked out in their innocent surprise.

 

Oft when the wine in his glass was red,

He longed for the wayside well instead;

 

And closed his eyes on his garnished rooms,

To dream of meadows and clover-blooms.

 

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,

And many children played round her door.

 

But care and sorrow, and child-birth pain,

Left their traces on heart and brain.

 

And oft, when the summer sun shone hot

On the new-mown hay in the meadow lot,

 

And she heard the little spring brook fall

Over the roadside, through the wall,

 

In the shade of the apple-tree again

She saw a rider draw his rein,

 

And, gazing down with timid grace,

She felt his pleased eyes read her face.

 

Sometimes her narrow kitchen walls

Stretched away into stately halls;

 

The weary wheel to a spinnet turned,

The tallow candle an astral burned;

 

And for him who sat by the chimney lug,

Dozing and grumbling o'er pipe and mug,

 

A manly form at her side she saw,

And joy was duty and love was law.

 

Then she took up her burden of life again,

Saying only, "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: "It might have been!"

 

Ah, well! for us all some sweet hope lies

Deeply buried from human eyes;

 

And, in the hereafter, angels may

Roll the stone from its grave away!

Dear Poetess/Rebecca,

 Leslie (TNT) and Morgan (Littlemissleigh) write on here sometimes....

I do write poems..But, there not very good. I"m writing one now. I might posted it if I ever get it done..=D Thanks for the ideas! =D

Hey Rebecca, Do you have a facebook? Or a blog?

-Smiley

www.homeschoolblogger.com/shootingstar

Hey Blogger Friends,

If you have any ideas on what we could write about, or what kind of stories you would like to read. We would love to hear them...Thanks!!! (p.s because I really need help, I can't think of a story)

Oh Merry Almost Christmas!

~*Smiley*~

(A.K.A) www.homeschoolblogger.com/shootingstar

Okay, here's another poem that I like. I don't have time to post a story right now, so I decided to do a poem. If that's okay with everyone. Oh! and this time I decided to post a picture of the poet along with the poem.

The Duel

Eugene Field

The gingham dog and the calico cat 
Side by side on the table sat;
'Twas half-past twelve, and (what do you think!)
Nor one nor t'other had slept a wink!
  The old Dutch clock and the Chinese plate
  Appeared to know as sure as fate
There was going to be a terrible spat.
  (I wasn't there; I simply state
  What was told to me by the Chinese plate!)

The gingham dog went " Bow-wow-wow!"
And the calico cat replied "Me-ow!"
The air was littered,an hour or so,
With bits of gingham and calico,
  While the old Dutch clock in the chimney place
  Up with it hands before its face,
For it always dreaded a family row!
  (Now mind: I'm only telling you
  What the old Dutch clock declares is true!)

The Chinese plate looked very blue,
And wailed,"Oh dear! What shall we do!"
But the gingham dog and the calico cat
Wallowed this way and tumbled that,
  Employing every tooth and claw
  In the awfullest way you ever saw-
And oh! how the gingham and calico flew!
  (Don't fancy I exaggerate!
  I got my news from the Chinese plate!)

Next morning where the two had sat
They found no trace of dog or cat;
And some folks think unto this day
That burglars stole the pair away!
  But the truth about the cat and pup
  Is this: they ate each other up!
Now what do you really think of that!
  (The old Dutch clock, it told me so,
  And that is how I came to know.)

Hey Poetess, thanks for all the comments! Have you gotten a blog yet? Or will your mom let you? Smiley is Courtney...you can see her picture on the side bar. Most of the time she signs her posts as Smiley. I just wanted to let you know.

Anyways, since I'm on here, I thought I might as well post a poem. I didn't write it, of course, it's the poem I chose to recite.

Solitude

By Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
Weep, and you weep alone.
For the sad old earth must borrow it's mirth,
But has trouble enough of it's own.
Sing, and the hills will answer;
Sigh, it is lost on the air.
The echoes bound to a joyful sound,
But shrink from voicing care.

Rejoice, and men will seek you;
Grieve, and they turn and go.
They want full measure of all your pleasure,
But they do not need your woe.
Be glad, and your friends are many;
Be sad, and you lose them all.
There are none to decline your nectared wine,
But alone you must drink life's gall.

Feast, and your halls are crowded;
Fast, and the world goes by.
Succeed and give, and it helps you live,
But no man can help you die.
There is room in the halls of pleasure
For a long and lordly train,
But one by one we must all file on
Through the narrow aisles of pain.

Okay, so I posted! I think if all of us take turns posting, we'll be able to keep this blog up to date.

Emily

Hey Guys, Well, I made this poem up at 1:39am last night. So, if you think it's kinda crazy! That's why! Well, here it is!

Once There Live A Girl Name Hannah. She live on a hill called Banana.

She woke up early everyday. To see if Mary wanted to play.

They like to swing from tree to tree. They acted like little monkeys.

They went to bed every night at ten. They were glad that they were friends..

Please remember it's late at night. It's too late for me to write.

So I will say to all a...goodnight

What do u guys think? Well, let me know! C Ya!

~*Smiley*~

Hey, sorry we haven't posted much lately...well, acctually, I guess that should be NONE lately. Sorry about that. We don't have many readers anyway, if we even have any. Well, since no one has posted, and since I had to write a paper for school, and SINCE Courtney said we could also post our school papers, I'm going to post mine.

Civil Disobedience:

Three Wrongs Make a Right

Civil disobedience is refusing to obey civil laws in order to change governmental policy or legislation. Those who employ it use passive resistance to effect change by nonviolent means. Miep Gies defied authority when she hid Anne Frank from Hitler’s death squads. In the same way but much earlier, Moses parents ignored an edict given by Pharaoh that the Israelites should drown any sons born to them. Defying civil authority, but discerning God’s will resulted in the saving of God’s people and their nation.

During the reign of either Ahmose I or Amenhotep I, the Israelites were living in Egypt. Because they honored God, they prospered and multiplied. Out of fear that the Israelites would rebel against him and take over Egypt, the pharaoh imposed harsh, heavy workloads. Israel became a mistreated slave nation. One of the Hebrew woman bore a son. Sensing he was a special child, she hid him for three months. When he was too old to hide any longer, she made a basket from bulrushes, placed him inside and laid the manger on the bank of the Nile. The baby’s sister stayed at the river to watch over him.

When the pharaoh’s daughter went to the river to bathe, she saw the basket with the baby inside. The daughter of Pharaoh had compassion on him, and kept him for her own child. Miraculously, she found and hired the child’s mother to keep and nurse him. When the baby grew older, he returned to Pharaoh’s daughter and became her son, whom she named Moses because she brought him out of the water. While she was raising Moses, the pharaoh’s daughter knew she was going against the official edict of her father.

Moses was raised and educated in the ways of the Egyptians. When he was older, he refused to be called the son of Pharaoh‘s daughter. While Moses was out among the Israelites, he saw an Egyptian beating a Hebrew, another name for Israelite. When Moses saw that no one was around, he killed the Egyptian and buried him. Upon hearing the crime Moses committed, the Pharaoh ordered the death of Moses. Leaning of the Pharaoh’s plot, he escaped to Midian where he remained until God was ready to use him as his messenger to Pharaoh.

Moses the Israelite raised as an Egyptian, understood the speech and customs of the Egyptian royal court. He was perfectly prepared to be effective in delivering God’s message: “Let my people go.” The Egyptians were nature and ancestor worshippers; therefore, God used plagues touching these things to persuade Pharaoh, after the death of his first born, to free His people. Moses was protected and preserved through three instances of civil disobedience: his parents hid him, Pharaoh’s daughter protected him, and he ran from a murder. On the day God appointed to him, Moses led the Israelites out of slavery in Egypt on dry land across the sea toward freedom.

Well, there it is. I've been working on a story, but I'm really busy lately, with school and everything, so I haven't had much time to work on it. I'm trying to figure out who my characters are right now though. If I make any progress with it, I'll post the story, but for now, this is all I have.

Emily

            The Black Valley

                     Chapter 1

Nicole laid down on the soft, green grass as she gazed upon the blue sky. I wonder why everything is so quiet. Nicole thought. She didn't mind it though, she rarely ever got a moment of silence. Suddenley, she hears hooves approaching her. She stood up, and gazed upon a horse rider, wearing all black. It was a black robe that covered every inch of him, including his face. Nicole's heart raced as he got closer and closer. He raised out a sword, she shut her eyes in fear, yearning to run, but to frightened! Suddenly, she felt a strong hand picking her up, and gentley placing her on the horse, she opened her eyes, it was her brother, John.

"Oh, I'm so glad it's you! I was terribley afraid!" she said, wrapping her arms around him. "Yeah, but  if I weren't here, you would have been killed, Nicole! You need to learn to run, no matter what, okay?" he said. Nicole looked down for a moment, and then thought about what he said. "You don't suppose the rider shall return, do you?" she asked. "We are leaving now, we must not stop until we are out of the town," he said sadly,"but we're going to try to meet up with mom and dad." he said.

A silent tear slid down Nicole's cheak. She then bowed her head. Dear Lord, I'm scared, I don't know what will happen, and.... I am going to try and let you deal with it, without another though. Amen.

Nicole had fallen asleep before they reached The Bridge of Other Worlds. No one knew where it led, no one knew what it was, and after a few years, they had even forgotten it existed.

"Nicole, wake up!" John said. "I think we've found something!" Nicole opened her eyes, and stared at the beauty of the bridge. But it wasn't really like a bridge at all! In fact, it looked nothing like one. It was grey, and round, and it apeared as if it had stairs from the outside.

"Let's take a look in there!" Nicole said. "I don't know, it might be dangerous." John said. "Please...." she said giving him her sad eyes. "Alright, but at the first sight of trouble, we're gone!" he said.

Okay, I promise I will try to get started on a short story soon, maybe this weekend since today is Friday. I'm not promising that I will write a story, but I will try. But, if I don't like it, I probably won't post it, then again, I might so you people can give me tips on how I can make it better. The only person that ever checks this blog anymore is Poetess. Thanks, Poetess, for still being loyal even though we haven't posted any stories in a long time. We need to figure out a way to keep in touch. And I understand that your mom might not let you e-mail me since you don't know me. Before I suggested e-mailing each other, I asked my mom, so I understand. I ask my mom about pretty much everything on here before I do it.

I haven't even tried writing in a while. I just usually start a story, and then trash it. I don't think I have what it takes to be a writer. I'm thinking about spending a week with my aunt sometime soon, and she has given me a lot of my inspiration, so maybe I will get back into writing again.

Does anyone have any suggestions on what I should write about. I think I will do a poll or something. Since hardly anyone gets on here, I will probably do it on my other blog, www.homeschoolblogger.com/indigobunting14 . I guess I will do it on here to, so here it is:

What are your favorite kind of books?

1. Fiction

2. Non-Fiction

3. Fiction/Historical

4. Comedy

5. Fiction/Animal

6. Other

Who ever wants to do the poll, please put your answer in a comment. Thanks!

Well, I guess I will go now, and I will start on a story...Tomorrow because I am too tired to do it today!

~*Emily*~