Maud Muller and the Aeroplane (poetry)

1914

By Henry Howland

Maud Muller, on a summer's day,
Was in the meadow raking hay.

She always had enjoyed good health,
But had a hankering for wealth.

Her cheeks were red, her eyes were brown,
She longed to live in the far-off town.

She wished she might be richly dressed,
And circulate among the best.

The judge came sailing up the lane
Upon his nice new aeroplane.

Below him he beheld the maid,
And tried to stop, and swooped and swayed.

He ripped a top rail from the fence,
And talked as if he had no sense.

The engine got beyond control,
The judge lost his immortal soul.

Maud stood there with a sickly grin,
Until he hit her with a fin.

"My lord!" she yelled, and ducked away;
The judge lit on a pile of hay.

She hurried where the spring gushed up
And filled her little old tin cup.

At first she thought the judge was dead,
But she splashed the water on his head.

He looked upon his aeroplane
And said some things that gave Maud pain.

At last he rose and, with a frown,
He started for the distant town.

Then bringing himself to a halt,
He said, "This, girl, is all your fault.

"If you had not been raking here,
I'd have stayed in the atmosphere.

"You've cost me dear and spoiled my sport;
I'll fine you for contempt of court!"

He then went onward up the lane,
And Maud returned to work again.

She gazed upon his wrecked machine,
And said, "Alas, what might have been!

"Ah, well, in heaven we'll all have wings,
And not depend on such fool things!"