Page:Mistral - Mirèio. A Provençal poem.djvu/164

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"Right pleasant reaping! The wind bows them over;
But see you not how quickly they recover?
Doee all your Provence wheat-crop look as cheering,
Grandfather?" asked a youth, old Ambroi nearing.
"The red is backward still," he made reply;
"But, if this windy weather last, deem I

"Sickles will fail us ere the work be done.
How like three stars the Christmas candles shone!
That was a blessed sign of a good year!"
"Now, grandfather, may the good God thee hear,
And in thy granary the same fulfil!"
So Ambroi and the reapers chatted still

In friendly wise, under the willows wending;
For these as well to Lotus Farm were tending.
It also chanced that Master Ramoun went
That eve to hearken for the wheat's complaint
Against the wind, wild waster of the grain;
And, as he strode over the yellow plain

From north to south, he heard the golden corn
Murmuring, "See the ills that we have borne,
Master, from this great gale. It spills our seed
And blurs our bloom!"—"Put on your gloves of reed,"
Sang others, "else the ants will be more fleet,
And rob us of our all but hardened wheat.