Chapter 3 No.3

At Argenteuil, I saw the lonely cell

Where Heloise dreamed through her broken rest,

That baby lips pulled at her undried breast.

It needed but my woman's heart to tell

Of those long vigils and the tears that fell

When aching arms reached out in fruitless quest,

As after flight, wings brood an empty nest.

(So well I know that sorrow, ah, so well.)

Across the centuries there comes no sound

Of that vast anguish; not one sigh or word

Or echo of the mother loss has stirred,

The sea of silence, lasting and profound.

Yet to each heart, that once has felt this grief,

Sad Memory restores Time's missing leaf.