I remember a maiden At the Luxembourg one day. I was sitting there smoking And she looked my way. Pink petals showered from the chestnut tree; She played more soberly and looked at me. She must have wanted me to speak to her, Divining my distress, But how could a child become my comforter? Little tender heart, little maid with the nut-brown eyes, You are the only one to guess my woe. Turn away. How have you learned to sympathize? Go play farther off. Your sister waits you. Go. Ah! No one can console, no one can heal— Child, you shall discover it, on the day So far-off, yet so near, when you shall steal To the Luxembourg to dream your tears away. Philippe Huc (1889—) writes under the name of Tristan Derême. He was at first a member of the "fantastics," but was later chosen to succeed Gasquet in the new Pléiade. Derême has been editor of two magazines, and is the author of a baker's dozen volumes of light or delicate verse. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE BEING AS MOMENT by HAYDEN CARRUTH WISDOM COMETH WITH THE YEARS by COUNTEE CULLEN THE SEA AND THE SKYLARK by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS LONDON CHURCHES by RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES THE SPELL OF THE YUKON by ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE COMPANION OF QUIET by JOSEPH AUSLANDER THE LAY OF THE LEGION by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN BLANK MISGIVINGS OF A CREATURE MOVING ABOUT IN WORLDS NOT REALIZED: 3 by ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH |