Page:A Sheaf Gleaned in French Fields.djvu/357

324

,—that was her name,— In a village lived obscure, Where in childhood's morning pure, Once, at harvest-time, I came; A little girl and schoolboy met, That was all our history, She knew not then that death was night,
 * Poor dear Colinette.

When we ran about together In the lanes and meadows green, A breathless joy lit up her mien, And mine was bright as sunny weather. A chaffinch on the trees, our pet, First hailed our child-love with his strain, And bush and brake burst forth amain,
 * Poor dear Colinette.

This mossy seat, whereon I sigh, Beheld my parting with the child, My soul that eve with grief was wild, I loved her without knowing why. With tears half-hid mine eyes were wet, I took her hand, and said, 'My dear, Adieu, until another year;'
 * Poor dear Colinette.