In The Harbour: At La Chaudeau

from The French Of Charles Coran

At La Chaudeau,--'tis long since then: I was young,--my years twice ten; All things smiled on the happy boy, Dreams of love and songs of joy, Azure of heaven and wave below, At La Chaudeau. At La Chaudeau I come back old: My head is gray, my blood is cold; Seeking along the meadow ooze, Seeking beside the river Seymouse, The days of my spring-time of long ago At La Chaudeau. At La Chaudeau nor heart nor brain Ever grows old with grief and pain; A sweet remembrance keeps off age; A tender friendship doth still assuage The burden of sorrow that one may know At La Chaudeau. At La Chaudeau, had fate decreed To limit the wandering life I lead, Peradventure I still, forsooth, Should have preserved my fresh green youth, Under the shadows the hill-tops throw At La Chaudeau. At La Chaudeau, live on, my friends, Happy to be where God intends; And sometimes, by the evening fire, Think of him whose sole desire Is again to sit in the old chateau At La Chaudeau.