Capitolo 11
Is it happy to see again Your companion of game?"
Anchor him makes the kitten made the purrs on the hearth of kitchen,
And the ancient clock, with his/her frame of oak,
In the angle been standing, as a sentinel,
And it challenged time with his/her measured hit.
A pleased light shone in the eyes of the young girl;
Ah, love, the young love, is very sweet!
Reuben had gone, but she rather still sat,
And the job to sweater placed intact to its feet.
Only the dame came then shaking himself/herself/itself in,
And it went to the oven without ado.
"Because, Phoebe, child thing has done?
Bread has cooked to the black oven as my shoe!"
It is Phoebe it started, and it blushed for the shame,
Taken on his/her job to sweater and he/she let him/it fall down;
And when it said his/her aunt, what grieves Him child?"
You responded with hurry, "Reuben Brown."
Ah, love! young love! it is a lot of dessert,
In field or small village or crowded market;
But it burns with the more diamond purer flame,
In the unknown depths of the heart of a young houseservant.
THE LOST HEART.
One day in summer gilded,
Along the forest-way,
Young Colin passed with happy footsteps vigilant.
His/her locks gracefully happy-go-lucky
Hemmed round his/her beautiful face
And it went adrift external on the airy surge.
So happy of heart was him,
He hummed a melody,
And all the birds were made to keep silent for feeling to sing him/it.
Through his/her flung of the shoulders
Its arc and baldric hung:
Then, in the semblance of true huntsman, he inserts the wood.
The sun climbs on on the sky,
The air indolently stirs,
And it exhales with heat in summer in every attentively reads.
Its edges start to get tired,
Sleeps his/her young fire;
He sinks on a violet-bed to remain.
The soft winds go and they come
With minimum and drowsy muttering,
And ope for him the ivory gate of dreams.
Under of the forest-shade
There the trips a wooded houseservant,
And you brand with frightened eye the youth rest.
For first she thought to fly,