Page:Poems Scudder.djvu/64

HAUVIETTE'S PRAYER

Brown Hauviette am I the elders call
 Of tongue too keen, of hazel eyes too soft,
And I have left the dance to kneel alone
 In this grey chapel where she came so oft.

My Jeanne. And dare I pray for her whose life
 In deeds of sweetest piety was spent—
And yet she loved me so she could not bear
 To say farewell to me before she went.

Black Robin caught me near the chapel door
 And kissed me ere I wrenched myself away.
I was so angry with him when he laughed
 Because I bade him leave me here to pray.

Saint Catherine with that great fiery wheel,
 Saint Margaret who gazing calm above
Tramples that monstrous dragon under foot—
 Terrible saints, more meet for fear than love.

Mild Agnes with her lamb clasped to her breast
 Were fitter patron for a pleader who
Is but an humble, timid shepherd lass—
 Yet, since she loved you most I come to you,

With such small gifts as I who am not rich
 Even among our peasant folk may bring
Jeanne always brought you flowers. I have searched
 Forest and meadow for my offering.

Wood-lilies, faintly scented violets,
 The blossoms of the wild strawberry vine,
And honeysuckles tinged with pink as though
 They held the last lees of the fairies' wine.

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