Explore "Mirèio" by Frédéric Mistral on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
When the crop is fair in the olive-yard, / And the earthen jars are ready / For the golden oil from the barrels poured, / And the big cart rocks unsteady / With its tower of gathered sheaves, and strains / And groans on its way through fields and lanes; / When brawny and bare as an old athlete / Comes Bacchus the dance a-leading, / And the labourers all, with juice-dyed feet, / The vintage of Crau are treading, / And the good wine pours from the brimful presses, / And the ruddy foam in the vats increases; / When under the leaves of the Spanish broom / The clear silkworms are holden, / An artist each, in a tiny loom, / Weaving a web all golden --
Fine, frail cells out of sunlight spun, / Where they creep and sleep by the million --