OrchardsBy Theodosia Garrison(In “Everybody’s Magazine.”)
By Theodosia Garrison
(In “Everybody’s Magazine.”)
Orchards in the Spring-time! Oh, I think and think of them—Filmy mists of pink and white above the fresh, young green,Lifting and drifting—how my eyes could drink of them!I’m staring at a dirty wall behind a big machine.Orchards in the Spring-time! Deep in soft, cool shadows,Moving all together when the west wind blowsFragrance upon fragrance over road and meadows—I’m smelling heat and oil and sweat, and thick, black clothes.Orchards in the Spring-time! The clean white and pink of themLifting and drifting with all the winds that blow.Orchards in the Spring-time! Thank God I can think of them!You’re not docked for thinking—if the foreman doesn’t know.
Orchards in the Spring-time! Oh, I think and think of them—Filmy mists of pink and white above the fresh, young green,Lifting and drifting—how my eyes could drink of them!I’m staring at a dirty wall behind a big machine.Orchards in the Spring-time! Deep in soft, cool shadows,Moving all together when the west wind blowsFragrance upon fragrance over road and meadows—I’m smelling heat and oil and sweat, and thick, black clothes.Orchards in the Spring-time! The clean white and pink of themLifting and drifting with all the winds that blow.Orchards in the Spring-time! Thank God I can think of them!You’re not docked for thinking—if the foreman doesn’t know.
Orchards in the Spring-time! Oh, I think and think of them—Filmy mists of pink and white above the fresh, young green,Lifting and drifting—how my eyes could drink of them!I’m staring at a dirty wall behind a big machine.
Orchards in the Spring-time! Oh, I think and think of them—
Filmy mists of pink and white above the fresh, young green,
Lifting and drifting—how my eyes could drink of them!
I’m staring at a dirty wall behind a big machine.
Orchards in the Spring-time! Deep in soft, cool shadows,Moving all together when the west wind blowsFragrance upon fragrance over road and meadows—I’m smelling heat and oil and sweat, and thick, black clothes.
Orchards in the Spring-time! Deep in soft, cool shadows,
Moving all together when the west wind blows
Fragrance upon fragrance over road and meadows—
I’m smelling heat and oil and sweat, and thick, black clothes.
Orchards in the Spring-time! The clean white and pink of themLifting and drifting with all the winds that blow.Orchards in the Spring-time! Thank God I can think of them!You’re not docked for thinking—if the foreman doesn’t know.
Orchards in the Spring-time! The clean white and pink of them
Lifting and drifting with all the winds that blow.
Orchards in the Spring-time! Thank God I can think of them!
You’re not docked for thinking—if the foreman doesn’t know.