Read "Mistral in the Maquis" by Edith Wharton online for free on Textopian. Full text with search, annotations, highlights, and AI-powered reading aids.
Roofed in with creaking pines we lie / And see the waters burn and whiten, / The wild seas race the racing sky, / The tossing landscape gloom and lighten.
With emerald streak and silver blotch / The white wind paints the purple sea. / Warm in our hollow dune we watch / The honey-orchis nurse the bee.
Gold to the keel the startled boats / Beat in on palpitating sail, / While overhead with many throats / The choral forest hymns the gale.
'Neath forest-boughs the templed air / Hangs hushed as when the Host is lifted, / While, flanks astrain and rigging bare, / The last boat to the port has drifted.
Nought left but the lost wind that grieves / On darkening seas and furling sails, / And the long light that Beauty leaves / Upon her fallen veils.