Page:Mistral - Mirèio. A Provençal poem.djvu/73

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Glad is Provence on a day like that,
'Tis the time of jest and laughter:
The Ferigoulet² and the Baume Muscat³
They quaff and they sing thereafter.
And lads and lasses, their toils between,
Dance to the tinkling tambourine.

"Methinks, good neighbors, I am Fortune's pet.
Ne'er in my-trellised arbor saw I yet
A silkier bower, cocoons more worthy praise,
Or richer harvest, since the year of grace
When first I laid my hand on Ramoun's arm
And came, a youthful bride, to Lotus Farm."

So spake Jano Mario, Ramoun's wife,
The fond, proud mother who had given life
To our Mirèio. Unto her had hied,
The while were gathered the cocoons outside,
Her neighbors. In the silk-worm-room they throng;
And, as they aid the picking, gossip long.

To these Mirèio tendered now and then
Oak-sprigs and sprays of rosemary; for when
The worms, lured by the mountain odor, come
In myriads, there to make their silken home,
The sprays and sprigs, adornèd in such wise.
Are like the golden palms of Paradise.