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Poem
The evening air blows twice as fair
when it is kissing her sweet strands of hair
to glimpse her rosy cheeks, perchance her eyes
any passerby would swoon.

Down the street the lamplights flicker on
a feeble gesture, half in vain
for any light forfeited by the sunset
is given to the moon.

And where it’s wanted shadow still creeps in
Observe! Behind a mule cart sits
bundled up in robes and motionless
the sweet girl prior mentioned.

Horses’ footfalls echo from the sides of shops
and disappear as masters drive
into some warmer corner
of the cold Parisian night

As well pedestrians shuffle by
at somewhat slower pace
and but the smallest turn their gaze upon
the pauper woman’s face

But none can see, but none can see
into this sweet girl’s reverie
the chillness in her breath
is the only sign she gives

Her eyes are closed, and now she flies
through darkest depths of mind to happier times
one summer evening on a porch
beside her lover true

When gaze is not transfixed upon the other
drinking from the depths of melancholy passion
it gorges itself upon the greenest grass
like heifers lowing on the hill

or bunnies bounding through the field
or crickets chirping in the reeded orchestra
all similes reveal themselves at twilight
to those in love, in elevated sight

and minds are read, so no surprise
can narrow further catlike eyes
when her lover true decides
to reveal to her the truth

“Upon this eve I have received
a letter from the Guard, with intent
to draft me into the army
as the gears of war are turned

you know how much I long to stay
within your arms until my dying day
but I’ve heard tales of those who tried to flee
many try, and none succeed

so in a week I’ll board the train
the line from Marseilles to Lorraine
and write you letters every night
until the morn that we shall hold each other tight”

And no words formed upon her lips
the falling leaves told all
but when they kissed tears did form inside their eyes,
rolled off, and mingled in their mouths.
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