Page:Mistral - Mirèio. A Provençal poem.djvu/30

4 The sun was sinking, as old Ambroi said; On high were little clouds a-flush with red; Sideways upon their yokèd cattle rode The laborers slowly home, each with his goad Erect. Night darkened on the distant moor; 'Twas supper-time, the day of toil was o'er.

"And here we are!" the boy cried. "I can see The straw-heaped threshing-floor, so hasten we!" "But stay!" the other. "Now, as I'm alive, The Lotus Farm 's the place for sheep to thrive,— The pine-woods all the summer, and the sweep Of the great plain in winter. Lucky sheep!

"And look at the great trees that shade the dwelling, And look at that delicious stream forth welling Inside the vivary! And mark the bees! Autumn makes havoc in their colonies; But every year, when comes the bright May weather, Yon lotus-grove a hundred swarms will gather."

"And one thing more!" cried Vincen, eagerly, "The very best of all, it seems to me,— I mean the maiden, father, who dwells here. Thou canst not have forgotten how, last year, She bade us bring her olive-baskets two, And fit her little one with handles new."