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THE BASQUE GIRL
That made each leaf a treasure. And the tree
Had two slight words graven upon its stem—
The broken heart's last record of its faith—
"Adieu, Henri!"....
...I learnt the history of the lovely picture:
It was a peasant girls', whose soul was given
To one as far above her as the pine
Towers o'er the lowly violet; yet still
She loved, and was beloved again—ere yet
The many trammels of the world were flung
Around a heart, whose first and latest pulse
Throbbed but for beauty: him, the young, the brave
Chivalrous Prince, whose name in after-years
A nation was to worship—that young heart
Beat with its first wild passion—that pure feeling
Life only once may know. I will not dwell
