Page:A Sheaf Gleaned in French Fields.djvu/264

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Along the path now rising and now dipping,
 * Sudden there came, as supple as a reed,

A blue-eyed girl, who balanced, lightly tripping,
 * An earthen pitcher, fair she was indeed!

Her brow was almost veiled, and in its beauty
 * Bent languid, while the waves of some day-dream

Passed o'er it—but her feet, still true to duty,
 * Glided unconscious to the accustomed stream.

The wind upon her shoulders smooth had scattered
 * Her brown hair with its streaks of shining gold.

A periwinkle—one—her undress flattered,
 * A rural ornament charming to behold.

Beside the fount from whence the clear stream slanted
 * Upon a stone she knelt, and looked above;

And then more joyously the bullfinch chanted
 * His canticle of sacred, sacred love.

Came by a mendicant, with no friends loving,
 * A branch of oak appeared his only friend;

His old frame trembled, and he looked as moving
 * Unto a grave that must his journeys end.

Upon the branches of a birch with sadness
 * His empty wallet carefully he hung,

Then o'er the waters murmuring in their gladness,
 * An eager longing gaze of thirst he flung.