Page:Mistral - Mirèio. A Provençal poem.djvu/92

66 The voices of the rest. Their heads were drooping, As they before the melody were stooping, Like slender reeds that lean and sway for ever Before the flowing eddies of a river.

Till Noro said, "Now is the air serene; And here the mowers come, their scythes to clean Beside the vivary brook. Mirèio, dear, Bring us a few St. John's Day apples here. And we will add a little new-made cheese, And take our lunch beneath the lotus-trees."