Page:A Sheaf Gleaned in French Fields.djvu/162

How vivid all,—clear-pictured in my brain,
And how they come again and yet again!
The house I enter. Silence reigns profound,
The night is calm and dark, my steps resound;
A single ray darts on the ceiling beam
Straight as an arrow, round it dance and stream
Atoms of dust, that like to diamonds gleam.
But soon each object lightens; I can see
The oaken bed and trunk, two steps from me.
Towards the door in turning, on a chest
Enormous, vases of all shapes abreast
With basins, dishes, jugs, and walnut spoons,
Rye bread, and milk, and cheese, and grapes, and prunes;
And lower down, beside the sacred hearth,
By which the tiny cricket shrills its mirth,
Calm sitting at her wheel, in shadow dim,
Marie I recognise in her garments trim,
Contrasts her white skirt with her own rose hue
As she the folds arranges. Fills with dew
Mine eyes, as soft she says, 'Ah, is it you?'