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A SHEAF GLEANED
Blue, like violets in a foss
Hemmed with moss,
Sparkle soft her innocent eyes,
Frame-like her bonnet adds a grace
To a face
As calm and pure as summer skies!
Hair chestnut, hardly one may view
There a few
Light threads of silver mixed between:
Thin flakes of snow what eye perceives
'Mid the leaves
Of a vigorous tree and green?
She works beneath the lilac tree
Ceaselessly,
Her place is by the garden-gate,
Swiftly her needle runs along,
While her song
Swells high and rich, and yet sedate.
And still attentive o'er her head
Branches spread,
As if to shield her and to bless,
And thick they shower their blossoms down
On her gown,
To ornament her simple dress!
