Page:Soldier poets, songs of the fighting men, 1916.djvu/85

Rh The Village

1914

ETTLING behind the haze a molten sun

Clothes the distant spires in gossamer,

Touches the swinging windows of the street

With fire, splashes the trees in liquid gold

And, in lassitude of slow decline,

Heralds the twilight's ease.

Weary workers

Turned from the plow, home-trudging from the fields,

Smile at their thoughts of well-earned peace and rest:

For in the village bustling pots and pans,

Sweet pleasant smells of peasant cookery,

Spell preparation for the evening meal.

In doorways, taking vantage of the light,

Sit here and there a figure, busy still

With flying fingers, weaving spider thread

To faery patterns of Valencienne.

Children are laughing; by the tiny brook

They wander, playing, teazing, now and then

Tossing a pebble at a darting minnow,

Till women voices, high-pitched to attract, 81