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To St Madeleine Sophie
You were French and small and quick
Like a sparrow, a happy little bird,
When you laughed it was fun.
You had the Burgundy sun
in your veins - yes - and the wine,
But what have I got in mine?
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A pocket of old Welsh mist,
with the English rain and the fog,
and a bit of a Scottish bog:
What would we have to say
to each other you and I ?
Yet, when we meet, and I
hesitate and shyly stand by,
Will you not call out "ma fille"
And hold out both your arms to me?
Yes! I know you will.
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