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A SHEAF GLEANED

THE COW.

VICTOR HUGO.

Before the white farm where o'er the threshold festoon
Wild creepers—where an old man sits sometimes at noon,
Where numbers of fowl strut and display their red crests,
And the watch-dog their guardian peacefully rests,
Half attentive to the clear trumpet note of their king,
Resplendent in sunshine as he claps his strong wing,
There stood a cow—chance-brought—on her neck bells jingled,
Superb, enormous, red and white intermingled—
Gentle, tender, and patient as a hind to its young,
She had gathered a bright group of children who hung
Under and around her,—village children, with teeth
White as marble peeping their red lips underneath,
And bushy hair in disorder; fresh and more brown
Than the mossy old walls in the skirts of a town,
Obstreperous—all calling together with cries
For other much younger to take shares in the prize;
The bands steal without pity, though they tremble with fear,
And look furtive around lest the milkmaid appear,
With ruby lips—lips joyous, that haply cause pain,
With fingers that busy, press again and again,
The full udders transpierced with a thousand small pores,
They draw the sweet nectar amid laughter and roars,