A Sheaf Gleaned in French Fields/The Young Girl (Charles Nodier)
THE YOUNG GIRL.
She was lovely indeed,—at the dawn of the day,
When her plainness of dress set a foil to her grace,
As her labyrinths of flowers and her bees to survey,
She glided about in the old garden-place.
She was lovely, more lovely, at eve, in the ball,
When the light joyed to rest on her forehead's expanse,
As decked with blue sapphires, and roses, 'mid all,
She whirled like a sylph in the maze of the dance.
She was lovelier yet;—more lovely by far,
When the night-wind filled out the folds of her veil.
In the silence returning by the beams of a star,
What a rapture it was, such a vision to hail!
She was lovely indeed—and what was her crown?
A hope vague and soft that embellished each day;
Love to perfect her seemed loth to come down,—
Peace!—There's her hearse passing by on its way.