Les Petites Vielles

Ulick O’Connor

Little old ladies, how often have I followed them. Especially she who, at the hour when sun.set, sta:ts And vermillion wounds bloody the evemng s nm, Would sit on a park bench, pensive and apart.
Absorbing those concerts and their ringing brass, With which the army sometimes grace our parks, Making us feel reborn as the golden evenings pass And some heroism pours into people's hearts.
Her, I recall still, proud, with a queen's stance. Absorbed in the valour of some martial quarrel. Sometimes the eye would open with an eagle glance, The marble forehead lifted for the laurel.