Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, LA TRICOTEUSE, by GEORGE WALTER THORNBURY


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

LA TRICOTEUSE, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: The fourteenth of july had come
Last Line: Knit, smiling, in the sun.
Subject(s): French Revolution (1789)


THE fourteenth of July had come,
And round the guillotine
The thieves and beggars, rank by rank,
Moved the red flags between.
A crimson heart, upon a pole, --
The long march had begun;
But still the little smiling child
Sat knitting in the sun.

The red caps of those men of France
Shook like a poppy-field;
Three women's heads, with gory hair,
The standard-bearers wield.
Cursing, with song and battle-hymn,
Five butchers dragged a gun;
Yet still the little maid sat there,
A-knitting in the sun.

An axe was painted on the flags,
A broken throne and crown,
A ragged coat upon a lance,
Hung in foul black shreds down.
"More heads!" the seething rabble cry,
And now the drum's begun;
But still the little fair-haired child
Sat knitting in the sun.

And every time a head rolled off,
They roll like winter seas,
And, with a tossing up of caps,
Shouts shook the Tuileries.
Whizz -- went the heavy chopper down,
And then the drums begun;
But still the little smiling child
Sat knitting in the sun.

The Jacobins, ten thousand strong,
And every man a sword;
The red caps, with the tricolors,
Led on the noisy horde.
"The Sans Culottes to-day are strong,"
The gossips say, and run;
But still the little maid sits there
A knitting in the sun.

Then the slow death-cart moved along;
And, singing patriot songs,
A pale, doomed poet bowing comes
And cheers the swaying throng.
O when the axe swept shining down,
The mad drums all begun;
But, smiling still, the little child
Sat knitting in the sun.

"Le Marquis'" -- linen snowy white,
The powder in his hair,
Waving his scented handkerchief,
Looks down with careless stare.
A whirr, a chop -- another head --
Hurrah! the work's begun;
But still the little child sat there
A-knitting in the sun.

A stir, and through the parting crowd,
The people's friends are come;
Marat and Robespierre -- "Vivat!
Roll thunder from the drum."
The one, a wild beast's hungry eye,
Hair tangled -- hark! a gun!
The other kindly kissed the child
A-knitting in the sun.

"And why not work all night?" the child
Said, to the knitters there;
O how the furies shook their sides,
And tossed their grizzled hair!
Then clapped a bonnet rouge on her,
And cried -- "'Tis well begun!"
And laughed to see the little child
Knit, smiling, in the sun.





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