Robecq Again

Robecq had straw and a comfortable tavern There men might their sinews feel slowly recovering From the march-strain and there was Autumn's translucence In the calm air, and a tang of the earth and its essence. A girl served wine there with natural dignity Moving as any princess from care free, And the North French air bathed crystal the flat land With cabbages and tobacco plants and varied culture spanned. Beautiful with moist clarity of Autumn's breath. Lovely with the years turning to leafless death Robecq, the dark town at night with estaminets lit, The outside road with poplars, plane trees on it, Huge dark barn with candles throwing warning flares Glooms steady + shifting pierced with cold flowing airs, With dumb peace at last and a wrapping from cares.