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200 Children's Song Lyrics, incuding Christian Hymns - online songbook

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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.
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 siuging birds, and the humming bees;
Then talked of the haying, and wondered whether The cloud in the west would bring foul weather.
But when she glanced to the far-off town, White from its hill-slope looking down,
The sweet song died, and a vague nnrest And a nameless longing filled her breast´┐Ż
A wish, that she hardly dai'ed 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 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.

E-Book - An Annotated Compendium of Old Time American Songs by James Alverson III