Page:Mistral - Mirèio. A Provençal poem.djvu/29

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And so one evening, as they trudged their round
With osier bundles on their shoulders bound,
"Father," young Vincen said, "the clouds look wild
About old Magalouno's³ tower up-piled.
If that gray rampart fell, 'twould do us harm:
We should be drenched ere we had gained the farm."

"Nay, nay!" the old man said, "no rain to-night!
'Tis the sea-breeze that shakes the trees. All right!
A western gale were different." Vincen mused:
"Are many ploughs at Lotus farmstead used?"
"Six ploughs!" the basket-weaver answered slow:
"It is the finest freehold in La Crau.

"Look! There 's their olive-orchard, intermixt
With rows of vines and almond-trees betwixt.
The beauty of it is, that vineyard hath
For every day in all the year a path!
There 's ne'er another such the beauty is;
And in each path are just so many trees."

"O heavens! How many hands at harvest-tide
So many trees must need!" young Vincen cried.
"Nay: for 'tis almost Hallowmas, you know,
When all the girls come flocking in from Baux,⁴
And, singing, heap with olives green and dun
The sheets⁵ and sacks, and call it only fun."