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B
<div class="poem"> <p>" He may and not care and so leave the chewink<br /> To gather them for him—you know what he is.<br /> He won't make the fact that they're rightfully his<br /> An excuse for keeping us other folk out." </p> </div>  +
<div class="poem"> <p>" He saw you, then ? What did he do ? Did he frown ? " </p> </div>  +
<div class="poem"> <p>" He seems to be thrifty ; and hasn't he need,<br /> With the mouths of all those young Lorens to feed ?<br /> He has brought them all up on wild berries, they say,<br /> Like birds. They store a great many away.<br /> They eat them the year round, and those they don't eat<br /> They sell in the store and buy shoes for their feet." </p> </div>  +
<div class="poem"> <p>" He seems to be thrifty ; and hasn't he need,<br /> With the mouths of all those young Lorens to feed ?<br /> He has brought them all up on wild berries, they say,<br /> Like birds. They store a great many away.<br /> They eat them the year round, and those they don't eat<br /> They sell in the store and buy shoes for their feet." </p> </div>  +
<div class="poem"> <p>" I don't know what part of the pasture you mean." </p> </div>  +
<div class="poem"> <p>" I wonder you didn't see Loren about." </p> </div>  +
<div class="poem"> <p>" I've told you how once not long after we came,<br /> I almost provoked poor Loren to mirth<br /> By going to him of all people on earth<br /> To ask if he knew any fruit to be had<br /> For the picking. The rascal, he said he'd be glad<br /> To tell if he knew. But the year had been bad.<br /> There had been some berries—but those were all gone.<br /> He didn't say where they had been. He went on :<br /> ' I'm sure—I'm sure '—as polite as could be.<br /> He spoke to his wife in the door, ' Let me see,<br /> Mame, we don't know any good berrying place ? '<br /> It was all he could do to keep a straight face. </p> </div>  +
<div class="poem"> <p>" If he thinks all the fruit that grows wild is for him,<br /> He'll find he's mistaken. See here, for a whim,<br /> We'll pick in the Mortensons' pasture this year.<br /> We'll go in the morning, that is, if it's clear,<br /> And the sun shines out warm : the vines must be wet.<br /> It's so long since I picked I almost forget </p> </div>  +
<div class="poem"> <p>" The best of it was that I did. Do you know,<br /> I was just getting through what the field had to show<br /> And over the wall and into the road,<br /> When who should come by, with a democrat-load<br /> Of all the young chattering Lorens alive,<br /> But Loren, the fatherly, out for a drive." </p> </div>  +
<div class="poem"> <p>" We shan't have the place to ourselves to enjoy—<br /> Not likely, when all the young Lorens deploy.<br /> They'll be there to-morrow, or even to-night.<br /> They won't be too friendly—they may be polite—<br /> To people they look on as having no right<br /> To pick where they're picking. But we won't complain.<br /> You ought to have seen how it looked in the rain,<br /> The fruit mixed with water in layers of leaves,<br /> Like two kinds of jewels, a vision for thieves." </p> </div>  +
<div class="poem"> <p>" Who cares what they say ? It's a nice way to live,<br /> Just taking what Nature is willing to give,<br /> Not forcing her hand with harrow and plow. “<br /> “I wish you had seen his perpetual bow—<br /> And the air of the youngsters ! Not one of them turned,<br /> And they looked so solemn-absurdly concerned.” </p> </div>  +
<div class="poem"> <p>" Who cares what they say ? It's a nice way to live,<br /> Just taking what Nature is willing to give,<br /> Not forcing her hand with harrow and plow. “<br /> “I wish you had seen his perpetual bow—<br /> And the air of the youngsters ! Not one of them turned,<br /> And they looked so solemn-absurdly concerned.” </p> </div>  +
<div class="poem"> <p>" Why, there hasn't been time for the bushes to grow.<br /> That's always the way with the blueberries, though :<br /> There may not have been the ghost of a sign<br /> Of them anywhere under the shade of the pine,<br /> But get the pine out of the way, you may burn<br /> The pasture all over until not a fern<br /> Or grass-blade is left, not to mention a stick,<br /> And presto, they're up all around you as thick<br /> And hard to explain as a conjuror's trick." </p> </div>  +
<div class="poem"> <p>" You know where they cut off the woods—let me see—<br /> It was two years ago—or no !—can it be<br /> No longer than that ?—and the following fall<br /> The fire ran and burned it all up but the wall." </p> </div>  +
<div class="poem"> <p>" You ought to have seen what I saw on my way<br /> To the village, through Mortenson's pasture to-day :<br /> Blueberries as big as the end of your thumb,<br /> Real sky-blue, and heavy, and ready to drum<br /> In the cavernous pail of the first one to come !<br /> And all ripe together, not some of them green<br /> And some of them ripe ! You ought to have seen ! " </p> </div>  +
F
<div class="poem"> <p>"Can't! No bottom to this mud. Once stop and lose momentum--stuck for keeps!" </p> </div>  +
O
<div class="poem"> <p>"Have you received your starry crown?"<br /> He said, "Your cross, have you laid down,<br /> Do all the angels have blonde hair,<br /> In this heaven you write me of out there?" </p> </div>  +
F
<div class="poem"> <p>"Heavenly! There's some gravel. We can make time. We'll hustle on to the next town and get dry." </p> </div>  +
M
<div class="poem"> <p>"I love you and I love you"—<br /> "And oh, I love you, too!"—<br /> "All of the flower girl's lilies<br /> Were only grown for you!" </p> </div>  +
K
<div class="poem"> <p>"I rest content, I kiss your eyes,"<br /> He said, "How fast the evening flies!<br /> I kiss your hair in my delight,<br /> I'd like to kiss you all the night." </p> </div>  +