Here you will find the Poem Pan in Vermont of poet Rudyard Kipling
About the 15th of this month you may expectour Mr. -- , with the usual Spring Seed, etc., Catalogues.? Florist?s Announcement. It?s forty in the shade to-day, the spouting eaves declare; The boulders nose above the drift, the southern slopes are bare; Hub-deep in slush Apollo?s car swings north along the Zod- iac. Good luck, the Spring is back, and Pan is on the road! His house is Gee & Tellus? Sons, ? so goes his jest with men ? He sold us Zeus knows what last year; he?ll take us in again. Disguised behind the livery-team, fur-coated, rubber-shod ? Yet Apis from the bull-pen lows ? he knows his brother God! Now down the lines of tasseled pines the yearning whispers wake ? Pithys of old thy love behold! Come in for Hermes?s sake! How long since that so-Boston boot with reeling Maenads ran! Numen adest! Let be the rest. Pipe and we pay, O Pan. (What though his phlox and hollyhocks ere half a month demised? What though his ampelopsis clambered not as advertised? Though every seed was guaranteed and every standard true ? Forget, forgive they did not live! Believe, and buy anew!) Now o?er a careless knee he flings the painted page abroad ? Such bloom hath never eye beheld this side of Eden Sword; Such fruit Pomona marks her own, yea, Liber oversees, That we may reach (one dollar each) the Lost Hesperides! Serene, assenting, unabashed, he writes our orders down: ? Blue Asphodel on all our paths ? a few true bays for crown ? Uncankered bud, immoral flower, and leaves that never fall ? Apples of Gold, of Youth, of Health ? and ? thank you, Pan, that?s all?. He?s off along the drifted pent to catch the Windsor train, And swindle every citizen from Keene to Lake Champlain. But where his goat?s-hoof cut the crust ? beloved, look below ? He?s left us (I?ll forgive him all) the may-flower `neath her snow!