A Sheaf Gleaned in French Fields/The Farmer's Wife (Hégésippe Moreau)
Love—Honour—to the farmer's wife
So pretty and so kind!
A wild bird that delights to live
In flowers and moss enshrined!
Old Vagabond and orphan child,
That need a fork and knife,
May you, by good luck, come across,
The farm and farmer's wife!
The empty stool beside the hearth
The poor man's is, at sight,
And the great chest of walnut wood
Denies him not his right.
'Twas there one day I came to sit,
Weary with worldly strife,
One day—then forward, and farewell!
O farm and farmer's wife!
My one good day has had its end
Long since, long since, ah me!
But there is pleasure for me yet
In its sweet memory.
I shut my eyes,—I see again,
With light the garden rife,
The hedge in flower, the little wood,
The farm and farmer's wife!
If God, as oft our pastor says,
Repays all kindness done
(At random even) to our kind,
My debt He sure must own.
Oh, may He fill that vale with flowers,
That home with joy and life,
And ever guard from storms and tears
The farm and farmer's wife!
In winter may a group of Loves
Around her spindle smile,
Like angels bright in Mary's home,
Her leisure to beguile;
And may they hail with shout and noise,
On mimic drum and fife,
A brother dear, to glad each year
The farm and farmer's wife.
ENVOI.
My little song, now take thy flight!
A feeble offering!
In April nights, with fuller praise,
The nightingale shall sing.
Oh may her tender song of love
Scare death, and ill, and strife,
And bring down choicest blessings on
The farm and farmer's wife.