After so many years he still keeps finding
Good arguments he sees he might have used.
I sympathise. I know just how it feels
To think of the right thing to say too late.
I had for my winter evening walk—
No one at all with whom to talk
“We sha’n’t have the place to ourselves to enjoy—
Not likely, when all the young Lorens deploy.
They’ll be there tomorrow, or even to-night.
They won’t be too friendly—they may be polite—
To people they look on as having no right
To pick where they’re picking. But we won’t complain.
You ought to have seen how it looked in the rain,
The fruit mixed with water in layers of leaves,
Like two kinds of jewels, a vision for thieves.”
There’s nothing I’m afraid of like scared people.
I don’t want you should shoot me in the head.
Off he goes always when I need him most.
It comes to little more:
There where it is we do not need the wall:
He is all pine and I am apple orchard.
