Page:Mistral - Mirèio. A Provençal poem.djvu/74

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"On Mother Mary's altar yesterday,"
Jano Mario said, "I went to lay
My finer sprays, by way of tithe. And so
I do each year; for you, my women, know
That, when the holy Mother will, 'tis she
Who sendeth up the worms abundantly."

"Now, for my part," said Zèu of Host Farm,
"Great fears have I my worms will come to harm.
You mind that ugly day the east wind blew,—
I left my window open,—if you knew
Ever such folly!—and to my affright
Upon my floor are twenty, now turned white."⁴

To her replied Taven, the ancient crone,
Who from the heights of Baux had wandered down
To help at the cocooning: "Youth is bold,
The young think they know better than the old;
And age is torment, and we mourn the fate
Which bids us see and know,—but all too late,

"Ye are such giddy women, every one,
That, if the hatching promise well, ye run
Straightway about the streets the tale to tell.
'Come see my silk-worms! 'Tis incredible
How fine they are!' Envy can well dissemble:
She hastens to your room, her heart a-tremble