A Sheaf Gleaned in French Fields/La Ménagère (André Theuriet)
LA MÉNAGÈRE.
When the house-mistress comes in sight,
Holy light
Enters the house wherein she dwells,
Crackle the brands, the flames rise proud,
And more loud
Repeats the bird his canticles.
In the great orchard every bough
Bending low
Salutes her with its wreath of flowers!
On her straw roofs the swallows build,
Faithful guild,
That herald luck and sunny hours!
Floats in her kingdom—(one large room!)
Soft perfume
That to the chance-guest's mind conveys
This thought,—lo! Plenty, Peace, Good-cheer,
All are here,
Thy lines are fall'n on pleasant ways.
A sober beauty, pensive, grave,
Such as have
The mallow, scabious, and white rose!
Smooth dimpled cheeks, though somewhat pale,
Where prevail
The smiles that all her heart disclose!
Blue, like violets in a foss
Hemmed with moss,
Sparkle soft her innocent eyes,
Frame-like her bonnet adds a grace
To a face
As calm and pure as summer skies!
Hair chestnut, hardly one may view
There a few
Light threads of silver mixed between:
Thin flakes of snow what eye perceives
'Mid the leaves
Of a vigorous tree and green?
She works beneath the lilac tree
Ceaselessly,
Her place is by the garden-gate,
Swiftly her needle runs along,
While her song
Swells high and rich, and yet sedate.
And still attentive o'er her head
Branches spread,
As if to shield her and to bless,
And thick they shower their blossoms down
On her gown,
To ornament her simple dress!