A Sheaf Gleaned in French Fields/The Child on the Sea-shore (Auguste Vacquerie)
THE CHILD ON THE SEA-SHORE.
It gives the vertigo—the rock is so steep,
And then on all sides is the wild foaming deep,
Not a sign of human existence, not a trace:
In this sinister spot, where the world disappears,
A little boy, fearless, where everyone fears,
Is seated alone,—as the king of the place.
Sole, weak and helpless;—unwatched by its mother!
The rock and the sea seem to fight with each other;
If they wished to destroy this child of the isles,
The mount has just to loose a bit of its stone,
The sea to urge forward a breaker alone,
To crush or to whelm—but the child only smiles.
In truth, the high rock that seems heaven to invade
Leans with affection, leans to give him some shade,
And shield him from winds; and the monstrous ocean
Licks timid his feet. Oh, Rock sombre, 'tis right
To change thy high pride—thus, thus to devotion!
And Sea, thou dost wisely to cringe in his sight!
For this little child—he is Man! Great on all hands—
He mourns and he suffers, and 'tis he who commands!
Eagle in spirit, the vulture untiring
Gnaws right in his heart—but he gazes above!
What, O Rock, is thy height to his genius aspiring?
What thy unrest, O Sea, by the side of his love?