Page:A Sheaf Gleaned in French Fields.djvu/265

232 He tried to drink, his efforts were beguiling,
 * The girl his trouble saw, and came in aid,

Offered her pitcher, and divinely smiling,
 * 'Drink, O my father, drink,' she gently said.

It was a scene of old—my bosom bounded,
 * Years, centuries, seemed back again to roll;

And ere it set, the sun methought had rounded
 * The girl's pure forehead with an aureole.