A long the thousand roads of France, <br />Now there, and here, swift as a glance, <br />A cloud, a mist blown down the sky, <br />Good Joan of Arc goes riding by. <br /> <br />In Domremy at candlelight, <br />The orchards blowing rose and white <br />About the shadowy houses lie; <br />And Joan of Arc goes riding by. <br /> <br />On Avignon there falls a hush, <br />Brief as the singing of a thrush <br />Across old gardens April-high; <br />And Joan of Arc goes riding by.<br /><br />Lizette Woodworth Reese<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-good-joan/
