No, no. I saw him when the sun had set In water, leaning on his single oar Above his garden faintly glimmering yet... There bulked the plough, here washed the updrifted weeds... And scull across his roof and make for shore, With twisted face and pocket full of seeds. Edna St. Vincent Millay February 1944 Mademoiselle Legrand called me heartless this afternoon. After saying it, she waited for me to respond, but I said nothing. I do not want to argue with Mlle. Legrand. After all, she has taken me in and is protecting me from the Germans at some risk to herself, and I must be grateful for that. And then, Maman said, in the last message she sent me, that I should not talk back to grownups, and I am trying to do what she asked. But it isn’t easy. Mlle. Legrand is like a child, like I was in regard to Monsieur Bonnet. Expecting grief to be shown in such a way that those who are not feeling it will be able to recognize it. “Ah, look at poor Nicole! See how thin she is! How sad she looks!
What do You think about A Pocket Full Of Seeds (1973)?
