Page:Lustra.djvu/75



Rochecoart, Where the hills part in three ways, And three valleys, full of winding roads, Fork out to south and north, There is a place of trees gray with lichen, I have walked there thinking of old days. At Chalais is a pleached arbour; Old pensioners and old protected women Have the right there— it is charity. I have crept over old rafters, peering down Over the Dronne, over a stream full of lilies. Eastward the road lies, Aubeterre is eastward, With a garrulous old man at the inn.