Easter Eve by Bliss Carman — Read

If I should tell you I saw Pan lately down by the shallows / of Silvermine, / Blowing an air on his pipe of willow, just as the moon began / to shine; / Or say that, coming from town on Wednesday, I met Christ walking / in Ponus Street; / You might remark, "Our friend is flighty! Visions, for want of / enough red meat! "

Then let me ask you. Last December, when there was skating / on Wampanaw, / Among the weeds and sticks and grasses under the hard black / ice I saw / An old mud-turtle poking about, as if he were putting his house / to rights, / Stiff with the cold perhaps, yet knowing enough to prepare / for the winter nights.