Page:A Sheaf Gleaned in French Fields.djvu/300

'But the herdsman possesses a heart that looks high,
He inquires not who loves him, what seamstresses sigh,
Or what harvest-gatherers blush red at his name!
In vain those make eyes, and strive hard these to shield
Their complexions amid the rough work of the field,
To secure his affections and kindle a flame.

'Orso regards not, and he takes the long road
Some two miles longer, just to pass our abode
And see my veil float at my casement,—but there
Ends all his love's boldness; and I to console
This tenderness mute, which he cannot control,
Hang out the love-banner that he may not despair.'

Thus spake proud Stella of the race of Sienne,
High-born and lovely, she looks down on all men;
But the herdsman cares little for her, or her birth,
He loves a sweet girl in the village hard by,
Her figure is graceful, and dark is her eye,
And her heart is the tenderest of any on earth.