 | Poems by Maurice Thompson |  |
139
PAN IN THE ORCHARD.
He carved a flute of elder green,
And notched it well and true,
Then pursed his lips and puffed his cheeks
And merrily he blew.
And notched it well and true,
Then pursed his lips and puffed his cheeks
And merrily he blew.
For it was spring-time holiday,
A sun-tanned boy was he,
With russet freckles on his face
And a patch upon his knee.
A sun-tanned boy was he,
With russet freckles on his face
And a patch upon his knee.
The apple boughs above him flung
Their tangled sprays on high,
With one dark, bristly blue-jay nest
Rough sketched against the sky.
Their tangled sprays on high,
With one dark, bristly blue-jay nest
Rough sketched against the sky.
He knew the secrets of the grass,
The burden of the hour,
He saw the fierce, bluff bumblebee
Touse many a clover flower.
The burden of the hour,
He saw the fierce, bluff bumblebee
Touse many a clover flower.
140
Orphaned and poor as poor could be,
The years before him lay
Dark billows of an unknown sea,
No light-house on the way.
The years before him lay
Dark billows of an unknown sea,
No light-house on the way.
And yet, and yet his elder flute
Could bring him comfort true;
He pursed his lips and puffed his cheeks
And blew, and blew, and blew!
Could bring him comfort true;
He pursed his lips and puffed his cheeks
And blew, and blew, and blew!
| Poems by Maurice Thompson | |