Droit du Seigneur
The Aspens shiver by the osier bed,
The waters ripple in September's sun
Among the rushes, where I sit and dream
My basket empty and my work undone.
I watch the spirals of blue smoke arise
Above the green of oak and chestnut tree
Only one week of wistful weariness
Before as custom bids, I go to thee.
But, wilt thou take thy right? My brother's wife
Went to the castle on her wedding-day,
And when thou saw'st her shivering dissent
Didst thou not say in kindness, "Go thy way,
"Untouched by me, even as thou hast come,
Save in the way of gifts; take this and this."
And she, poor little fool, rejoined her mate,
Unharmed, unhonoured, even by a kiss.
Last week I saw her at her cottage door
Nursing her clumsy child; no wistful sigh
For what her peasant arms might yet have held,
A child of thine,—broke her serenity.
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