The Road to Avrillé
Richard Pearson Thomas
April again in Avrillé,
And the brown lark in air.
And you and I a world apart,
That walked together there.
The cuckoo spoke from out of the wood,
The lark from out the sky.
Embraced upon the highway stood
Love-sick you and I.
The rosy peasant left his bees,
The carrier slowed his cart,
To shout us blithe obscenities,
And bless us from the heart.