Page:A Sheaf Gleaned in French Fields.djvu/69

But from afar I see his children all
Around the crackling vine-leaves in a glow,
Search on his knees the sweet caress of eve.
Towards the open chapel tired I crawl,
Oft weeping—the only house below
Where I am not a stranger; the only door
Which does not shut at my approach. I grieve
But feel consoled when kneeling on that floor.
Then at the hour of prayer
Often my wandering footsteps stray
Among the lonely tombs. No peace is there.
The tombs are all indifferent unto me.
The poor girl has no kinsfolk 'mid the dead,
As on the earth no help or stay.
For fourteen springs I've wept for thee,
And longed to rest upon thy breast my head.
Return, oh mother, that hast so long fled,
I wait here by the stone; return, by pity led,
Where once in agony wild
Thou hadst forsaken thy poor child.