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He continued: "He peench queeck like that. He don' know hee's goin' for peench hees all time queeck like that he don' theenk. But after those boy hee's peench the cheen of those girl, hee's got red in the face like black-bird's weeng. 'Oh, he say, 'I am sky-blue eedete-ot, an' he run away queeck before he forget heemself an' peench those girl some more." John Parker turned gravely to his wife.
Any intelligent farmer's boy can give you some narrative of out-door observation which, so far as it goes, fulfils Milton's definition of poetry, "simple, sensuous, passionate." He may not write sonnets to the lake, but he will walk miles to bathe in it; he may not notice the sunsets, but he knows where to search for the black-bird's nest.
All he asked of her, as yet, was a touch on the hand or on the lips and that she should let him go on lying there through the long warm hours, while a black-bird's song throbbed like a fountain, and the summer wind stirred in the trees, and close by, between the nearest branches and the brim of his tilted hat, a slight white figure gathered up all the floating threads of joy...
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