Page:Mistral - Mirèio. A Provençal poem.djvu/262

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The hour was calm. Upon the tiles no word
Save the oremus of the priest was heard.
The last red shaft of the declining day
Struck on the wall and passed, and heaven turned gray.
The sea's long waves came slowly up the shore,
Brake with a murmur soft, and were no more.

Beside the maid knelt father, mother, lover,
And hoarsely sobbed at intervals above her;
Till once again her lips moved, and she spake:
"Now is the parting close at hand! So take
My hand, and press it quickly, dears. Lo, now
The glory grows on either Mary's brow!

"The pink flamingoes flock from the Rhone shore,
The tamarisks in blossom all adore.
The dear Saints beckon me to them," she said.
"They tell me I need never be afraid:
They know the constellations of the skies;
Their bark will take us quick to Paradise!"

"My little pet," said Ramoun, quite undone,
"You will not go, and leave the home so lone!
Why have I felled my oaks with such ado?
The zeal that nerved me only came of you.
If the hot sun on sultry glebe o'ertook me,
I thought of you, and heat and thirst forsook me."