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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 02:47:20 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/29345-8.txt b/29345-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c03ce51 --- /dev/null +++ b/29345-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2480 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mountain Interval, by Robert Frost + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Mountain Interval + +Author: Robert Frost + +Release Date: July 7, 2009 [EBook #29345] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MOUNTAIN INTERVAL *** + + + + +Produced by David Starner, Katherine Ward and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + [Illustration: ROBERT FROST + From the original in plaster by AROLDO DU CHÊNE + _Copyright, Henry Holt and Company_] + + + + + MOUNTAIN INTERVAL + + + BY + ROBERT FROST + + + NEW YORK + HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY + + COPYRIGHT, 1916, 1921 + BY + HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY + + _May, 1931_ + + PRINTED IN THE U. S. A. BY + THE QUINN & BODEN COMPANY + RAHWAY, N. J. + + * * * * * + + + TO YOU + WHO LEAST NEED REMINDING + + that before this interval of the South Branch under black + mountains, there was another interval, the Upper at Plymouth, + where we walked in spring beyond the covered bridge; but that + the first interval of all was the old farm, our brook interval, + so called by the man we had it from in sale. + + + + +CONTENTS + + PAGE + THE ROAD NOT TAKEN 9 + CHRISTMAS TREES 11 + AN OLD MAN'S WINTER NIGHT 14 + A PATCH OF OLD SNOW 15 + IN THE HOME STRETCH 16 + THE TELEPHONE 24 + MEETING AND PASSING 25 + HYLA BROOK 26 + THE OVEN BIRD 27 + BOND AND FREE 28 + BIRCHES 29 + PEA BRUSH 31 + PUTTING IN THE SEED 32 + A TIME TO TALK 33 + THE COW IN APPLE TIME 34 + AN ENCOUNTER 35 + RANGE-FINDING 36 + THE HILL WIFE 37 + I LONELINESS--HER WORD 37 + II HOUSE FEAR 37 + III THE SMILE--HER WORD 38 + IV THE OFT-REPEATED DREAM 38 + V THE IMPULSE 39 + THE BONFIRE 41 + A GIRL'S GARDEN 45 + THE EXPOSED NEST 48 + "OUT, OUT--" 50 + BROWN'S DESCENT OR THE WILLY-NILLY SLIDE 52 + THE GUM-GATHERER 56 + THE LINE-GANG 58 + THE VANISHING RED 59 + SNOW 61 + THE SOUND OF THE TREES 75 + + + + +_THE ROAD NOT TAKEN_ + + + _Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, + And sorry I could not travel both + And be one traveler, long I stood + And looked down one as far as I could + To where it bent in the undergrowth;_ + + _Then took the other, as just as fair, + And having perhaps the better claim, + Because it was grassy and wanted wear; + Though as for that the passing there + Had worn them really about the same,_ + + _And both that morning equally lay + In leaves no step had trodden black. + Oh, I kept the first for another day! + Yet knowing how way leads on to way, + I doubted if I should ever come back._ + + _I shall be telling this with a sigh + Somewhere ages and ages hence: + Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-- + I took the one less traveled by, + And that has made all the difference._ + + + + +CHRISTMAS TREES + +(_A Christmas Circular Letter_) + + + The city had withdrawn into itself + And left at last the country to the country; + When between whirls of snow not come to lie + And whirls of foliage not yet laid, there drove + A stranger to our yard, who looked the city, + Yet did in country fashion in that there + He sat and waited till he drew us out + A-buttoning coats to ask him who he was. + He proved to be the city come again + To look for something it had left behind + And could not do without and keep its Christmas. + He asked if I would sell my Christmas trees; + My woods--the young fir balsams like a place + Where houses all are churches and have spires. + I hadn't thought of them as Christmas Trees. + I doubt if I was tempted for a moment + To sell them off their feet to go in cars + And leave the slope behind the house all bare, + Where the sun shines now no warmer than the moon. + I'd hate to have them know it if I was. + Yet more I'd hate to hold my trees except + As others hold theirs or refuse for them, + Beyond the time of profitable growth, + The trial by market everything must come to. + I dallied so much with the thought of selling. + Then whether from mistaken courtesy + And fear of seeming short of speech, or whether + From hope of hearing good of what was mine, + I said, "There aren't enough to be worth while." + "I could soon tell how many they would cut, + You let me look them over." + + "You could look. + But don't expect I'm going to let you have them." + Pasture they spring in, some in clumps too close + That lop each other of boughs, but not a few + Quite solitary and having equal boughs + All round and round. The latter he nodded "Yes" to, + Or paused to say beneath some lovelier one, + With a buyer's moderation, "That would do." + I thought so too, but wasn't there to say so. + We climbed the pasture on the south, crossed over, + And came down on the north. + + He said, "A thousand." + + "A thousand Christmas trees!--at what apiece?" + + He felt some need of softening that to me: + "A thousand trees would come to thirty dollars." + + Then I was certain I had never meant + To let him have them. Never show surprise! + But thirty dollars seemed so small beside + The extent of pasture I should strip, three cents + (For that was all they figured out apiece), + Three cents so small beside the dollar friends + I should be writing to within the hour + Would pay in cities for good trees like those, + Regular vestry-trees whole Sunday Schools + Could hang enough on to pick off enough. + A thousand Christmas trees I didn't know I had! + Worth three cents more to give away than sell, + As may be shown by a simple calculation. + Too bad I couldn't lay one in a letter. + I can't help wishing I could send you one, + In wishing you herewith a Merry Christmas. + + + + +AN OLD MAN'S WINTER NIGHT + + + All out of doors looked darkly in at him + Through the thin frost, almost in separate stars, + That gathers on the pane in empty rooms. + What kept his eyes from giving back the gaze + Was the lamp tilted near them in his hand. + What kept him from remembering what it was + That brought him to that creaking room was age. + He stood with barrels round him--at a loss. + And having scared the cellar under him + In clomping there, he scared it once again + In clomping off;--and scared the outer night, + Which has its sounds, familiar, like the roar + Of trees and crack of branches, common things, + But nothing so like beating on a box. + A light he was to no one but himself + Where now he sat, concerned with he knew what, + A quiet light, and then not even that. + He consigned to the moon, such as she was, + So late-arising, to the broken moon + As better than the sun in any case + For such a charge, his snow upon the roof, + His icicles along the wall to keep; + And slept. The log that shifted with a jolt + Once in the stove, disturbed him and he shifted, + And eased his heavy breathing, but still slept. + One aged man--one man--can't fill a house, + A farm, a countryside, or if he can, + It's thus he does it of a winter night. + + + + +A PATCH OF OLD SNOW + + + There's a patch of old snow in a corner + That I should have guessed + Was a blow-away paper the rain + Had brought to rest. + + It is speckled with grime as if + Small print overspread it, + The news of a day I've forgotten-- + If I ever read it. + + + + +IN THE HOME STRETCH + + + She stood against the kitchen sink, and looked + Over the sink out through a dusty window + At weeds the water from the sink made tall. + She wore her cape; her hat was in her hand. + Behind her was confusion in the room, + Of chairs turned upside down to sit like people + In other chairs, and something, come to look, + For every room a house has--parlor, bed-room, + And dining-room--thrown pell-mell in the kitchen. + And now and then a smudged, infernal face + Looked in a door behind her and addressed + Her back. She always answered without turning. + + "Where will I put this walnut bureau, lady?" + "Put it on top of something that's on top + Of something else," she laughed. "Oh, put it where + You can to-night, and go. It's almost dark; + You must be getting started back to town." + Another blackened face thrust in and looked + And smiled, and when she did not turn, spoke gently, + "What are you seeing out the window, _lady_?" + + "Never was I beladied so before. + Would evidence of having been called lady + More than so many times make me a lady + In common law, I wonder." + + "But I ask, + What are you seeing out the window, lady?" + + "What I'll be seeing more of in the years + To come as here I stand and go the round + Of many plates with towels many times." + + "And what is that? You only put me off." + + "Rank weeds that love the water from the dish-pan + More than some women like the dish-pan, Joe; + A little stretch of mowing-field for you; + Not much of that until I come to woods + That end all. And it's scarce enough to call + A view." + + "And yet you think you like it, dear?" + + "That's what you're so concerned to know! You hope + I like it. Bang goes something big away + Off there upstairs. The very tread of men + As great as those is shattering to the frame + Of such a little house. Once left alone, + You and I, dear, will go with softer steps + Up and down stairs and through the rooms, and none + But sudden winds that snatch them from our hands + Will ever slam the doors." + + "I think you see + More than you like to own to out that window." + + "No; for besides the things I tell you of, + I only see the years. They come and go + In alternation with the weeds, the field, + The wood." + + "What kind of years?" + "Why, latter years-- + Different from early years." + "I see them, too. + You didn't count them?" + "No, the further off + So ran together that I didn't try to. + It can scarce be that they would be in number + We'd care to know, for we are not young now. + And bang goes something else away off there. + It sounds as if it were the men went down, + And every crash meant one less to return + To lighted city streets we, too, have known, + But now are giving up for country darkness." + + "Come from that window where you see too much for me, + And take a livelier view of things from here. + They're going. Watch this husky swarming up + Over the wheel into the sky-high seat, + Lighting his pipe now, squinting down his nose + At the flame burning downward as he sucks it." + + "See how it makes his nose-side bright, a proof + How dark it's getting. Can you tell what time + It is by that? Or by the moon? The new moon! + What shoulder did I see her over? Neither. + A wire she is of silver, as new as we + To everything. Her light won't last us long. + It's something, though, to know we're going to have her + Night after night and stronger every night + To see us through our first two weeks. But, Joe, + The stove! Before they go! Knock on the window; + Ask them to help you get it on its feet. + We stand here dreaming. Hurry! Call them back!" + + "They're not gone yet." + + "We've got to have the stove, + Whatever else we want for. And a light. + Have we a piece of candle if the lamp + And oil are buried out of reach?" + Again + The house was full of tramping, and the dark, + Door-filling men burst in and seized the stove. + A cannon-mouth-like hole was in the wall, + To which they set it true by eye; and then + Came up the jointed stovepipe in their hands, + So much too light and airy for their strength + It almost seemed to come ballooning up, + Slipping from clumsy clutches toward the ceiling. + "A fit!" said one, and banged a stovepipe shoulder. + "It's good luck when you move in to begin + With good luck with your stovepipe. Never mind, + It's not so bad in the country, settled down, + When people're getting on in life. You'll like it." + Joe said: "You big boys ought to find a farm, + And make good farmers, and leave other fellows + The city work to do. There's not enough + For everybody as it is in there." + "God!" one said wildly, and, when no one spoke: + "Say that to Jimmy here. He needs a farm." + But Jimmy only made his jaw recede + Fool-like, and rolled his eyes as if to say + He saw himself a farmer. Then there was a French boy + Who said with seriousness that made them laugh, + "Ma friend, you ain't know what it is you're ask." + He doffed his cap and held it with both hands + Across his chest to make as 'twere a bow: + "We're giving you our chances on de farm." + And then they all turned to with deafening boots + And put each other bodily out of the house. + "Goodby to them! We puzzle them. They think-- + I don't know what they think we see in what + They leave us to: that pasture slope that seems + The back some farm presents us; and your woods + To northward from your window at the sink, + Waiting to steal a step on us whenever + We drop our eyes or turn to other things, + As in the game 'Ten-step' the children play." + + "Good boys they seemed, and let them love the city. + All they could say was 'God!' when you proposed + Their coming out and making useful farmers." + + "Did they make something lonesome go through you? + It would take more than them to sicken you-- + Us of our bargain. But they left us so + As to our fate, like fools past reasoning with. + They almost shook _me_." + + "It's all so much + What we have always wanted, I confess + It's seeming bad for a moment makes it seem + Even worse still, and so on down, down, down. + It's nothing; it's their leaving us at dusk. + I never bore it well when people went. + The first night after guests have gone, the house + Seems haunted or exposed. I always take + A personal interest in the locking up + At bedtime; but the strangeness soon wears off." + He fetched a dingy lantern from behind + A door. "There's that we didn't lose! And these!"-- + Some matches he unpocketed. "For food-- + The meals we've had no one can take from us. + I wish that everything on earth were just + As certain as the meals we've had. I wish + The meals we haven't had were, anyway. + What have you you know where to lay your hands on?" + + "The bread we bought in passing at the store. + There's butter somewhere, too." + + "Let's rend the bread. + I'll light the fire for company for you; + You'll not have any other company + Till Ed begins to get out on a Sunday + To look us over and give us his idea + Of what wants pruning, shingling, breaking up. + He'll know what he would do if he were we, + And all at once. He'll plan for us and plan + To help us, but he'll take it out in planning. + Well, you can set the table with the loaf. + Let's see you find your loaf. I'll light the fire. + I like chairs occupying other chairs + Not offering a lady--" + + "There again, Joe! + _You're tired._" + + "I'm drunk-nonsensical tired out; + Don't mind a word I say. It's a day's work + To empty one house of all household goods + And fill another with 'em fifteen miles away, + Although you do no more than dump them down." + + "Dumped down in paradise we are and happy." + + "It's all so much what I have always wanted, + I can't believe it's what you wanted, too." + + "Shouldn't you like to know?" + + "I'd like to know + If it is what you wanted, then how much + You wanted it for me." + + "A troubled conscience! + You don't want me to tell if _I_ don't know." + + "I don't want to find out what can't be known. + + But who first said the word to come?" + + "My dear, + It's who first thought the thought. You're searching, Joe, + For things that don't exist; I mean beginnings. + Ends and beginnings--there are no such things. + There are only middles." + + "What is this?" + "This life? + Our sitting here by lantern-light together + Amid the wreckage of a former home? + You won't deny the lantern isn't new. + The stove is not, and you are not to me, + Nor I to you." + + "Perhaps you never were?" + + "It would take me forever to recite + All that's not new in where we find ourselves. + New is a word for fools in towns who think + Style upon style in dress and thought at last + Must get somewhere. I've heard you say as much. + No, this is no beginning." + + "Then an end?" + "End is a gloomy word." + + "Is it too late + To drag you out for just a good-night call + On the old peach trees on the knoll to grope + By starlight in the grass for a last peach + The neighbors may not have taken as their right + When the house wasn't lived in? I've been looking: + I doubt if they have left us many grapes. + Before we set ourselves to right the house, + The first thing in the morning, out we go + To go the round of apple, cherry, peach, + Pine, alder, pasture, mowing, well, and brook. + All of a farm it is." + + "I know this much: + I'm going to put you in your bed, if first + I have to make you build it. Come, the light." + + When there was no more lantern in the kitchen, + The fire got out through crannies in the stove + And danced in yellow wrigglers on the ceiling, + As much at home as if they'd always danced there. + + + + +THE TELEPHONE + + + "When I was just as far as I could walk + From here to-day, + There was an hour + All still + When leaning with my head against a flower + I heard you talk. + Don't say I didn't, for I heard you say-- + You spoke from that flower on the window sill-- + Do you remember what it was you said?" + + "First tell me what it was you thought you heard." + + "Having found the flower and driven a bee away, + I leaned my head, + And holding by the stalk, + I listened and I thought I caught the word-- + What was it? Did you call me by my name? + Or did you say-- + _Someone_ said 'Come'--I heard it as I bowed." + + "I may have thought as much, but not aloud." + + "Well, so I came." + + + + +MEETING AND PASSING + + + As I went down the hill along the wall + There was a gate I had leaned at for the view + And had just turned from when I first saw you + As you came up the hill. We met. But all + We did that day was mingle great and small + Footprints in summer dust as if we drew + The figure of our being less than two + But more than one as yet. Your parasol + + Pointed the decimal off with one deep thrust. + And all the time we talked you seemed to see + Something down there to smile at in the dust. + (Oh, it was without prejudice to me!) + Afterward I went past what you had passed + Before we met and you what I had passed. + + + + +HYLA BROOK + + + By June our brook's run out of song and speed. + Sought for much after that, it will be found + Either to have gone groping underground + (And taken with it all the Hyla breed + That shouted in the mist a month ago, + Like ghost of sleigh-bells in a ghost of snow)-- + Or flourished and come up in jewel-weed, + Weak foliage that is blown upon and bent + Even against the way its waters went. + Its bed is left a faded paper sheet + Of dead leaves stuck together by the heat-- + A brook to none but who remember long. + This as it will be seen is other far + Than with brooks taken otherwhere in song. + We love the things we love for what they are. + + + + +THE OVEN BIRD + + + There is a singer everyone has heard, + Loud, a mid-summer and a mid-wood bird, + Who makes the solid tree trunks sound again. + He says that leaves are old and that for flowers + Mid-summer is to spring as one to ten. + He says the early petal-fall is past + When pear and cherry bloom went down in showers + On sunny days a moment overcast; + And comes that other fall we name the fall. + He says the highway dust is over all. + The bird would cease and be as other birds + But that he knows in singing not to sing. + The question that he frames in all but words + Is what to make of a diminished thing. + + + + +BOND AND FREE + + + Love has earth to which she clings + With hills and circling arms about-- + Wall within wall to shut fear out. + But Thought has need of no such things, + For Thought has a pair of dauntless wings. + + On snow and sand and turf, I see + Where Love has left a printed trace + With straining in the world's embrace. + And such is Love and glad to be. + But Thought has shaken his ankles free. + + Thought cleaves the interstellar gloom + And sits in Sirius' disc all night, + Till day makes him retrace his flight, + With smell of burning on every plume, + Back past the sun to an earthly room. + + His gains in heaven are what they are. + Yet some say Love by being thrall + And simply staying possesses all + In several beauty that Thought fares far + To find fused in another star. + + + + +BIRCHES + + + When I see birches bend to left and right + Across the lines of straighter darker trees, + I like to think some boy's been swinging them. + But swinging doesn't bend them down to stay. + Ice-storms do that. Often you must have seen them + Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning + After a rain. They click upon themselves + As the breeze rises, and turn many-colored + As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel. + Soon the sun's warmth makes them shed crystal shells + Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust-- + Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away + You'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen. + They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load, + And they seem not to break; though once they are bowed + So low for long, they never right themselves: + You may see their trunks arching in the woods + Years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground + Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair + Before them over their heads to dry in the sun. + But I was going to say when Truth broke in + With all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm + (Now am I free to be poetical?) + I should prefer to have some boy bend them + As he went out and in to fetch the cows-- + Some boy too far from town to learn baseball, + Whose only play was what he found himself, + Summer or winter, and could play alone. + One by one he subdued his father's trees + By riding them down over and over again + Until he took the stiffness out of them, + And not one but hung limp, not one was left + For him to conquer. He learned all there was + To learn about not launching out too soon + And so not carrying the tree away + Clear to the ground. He always kept his poise + To the top branches, climbing carefully + With the same pains you use to fill a cup + Up to the brim, and even above the brim. + Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish, + Kicking his way down through the air to the ground. + So was I once myself a swinger of birches. + And so I dream of going back to be. + It's when I'm weary of considerations, + And life is too much like a pathless wood + Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs + Broken across it, and one eye is weeping + From a twig's having lashed across it open. + I'd like to get away from earth awhile + And then come back to it and begin over. + May no fate willfully misunderstand me + And half grant what I wish and snatch me away + Not to return. Earth's the right place for love: + I don't know where it's likely to go better. + I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree, + And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk + _Toward_ heaven, till the tree could bear no more, + But dipped its top and set me down again. + That would be good both going and coming back. + One could do worse than be a swinger of birches. + + + + +PEA BRUSH + + + I walked down alone Sunday after church + To the place where John has been cutting trees + To see for myself about the birch + He said I could have to bush my peas. + + The sun in the new-cut narrow gap + Was hot enough for the first of May, + And stifling hot with the odor of sap + From stumps still bleeding their life away. + + The frogs that were peeping a thousand shrill + Wherever the ground was low and wet, + The minute they heard my step went still + To watch me and see what I came to get. + + Birch boughs enough piled everywhere!-- + All fresh and sound from the recent axe. + Time someone came with cart and pair + And got them off the wild flower's backs. + + They might be good for garden things + To curl a little finger round, + The same as you seize cat's-cradle strings, + And lift themselves up off the ground. + + Small good to anything growing wild, + They were crooking many a trillium + That had budded before the boughs were piled + And since it was coming up had to come. + + + + +PUTTING IN THE SEED + + + You come to fetch me from my work to-night + When supper's on the table, and we'll see + If I can leave off burying the white + Soft petals fallen from the apple tree. + (Soft petals, yes, but not so barren quite, + Mingled with these, smooth bean and wrinkled pea;) + And go along with you ere you lose sight + Of what you came for and become like me, + Slave to a springtime passion for the earth. + How Love burns through the Putting in the Seed + On through the watching for that early birth + When, just as the soil tarnishes with weed, + + The sturdy seedling with arched body comes + Shouldering its way and shedding the earth crumbs. + + + + +A TIME TO TALK + + + When a friend calls to me from the road + And slows his horse to a meaning walk, + I don't stand still and look around + On all the hills I haven't hoed, + And shout from where I am, What is it? + No, not as there is a time to talk. + I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground, + Blade-end up and five feet tall, + And plod: I go up to the stone wall + For a friendly visit. + + + + +THE COW IN APPLE TIME + + + Something inspires the only cow of late + To make no more of a wall than an open gate, + And think no more of wall-builders than fools. + Her face is flecked with pomace and she drools + A cider syrup. Having tasted fruit, + She scorns a pasture withering to the root. + She runs from tree to tree where lie and sweeten + The windfalls spiked with stubble and worm-eaten. + She leaves them bitten when she has to fly. + She bellows on a knoll against the sky. + Her udder shrivels and the milk goes dry. + + + + +AN ENCOUNTER + + + Once on the kind of day called "weather breeder," + When the heat slowly hazes and the sun + By its own power seems to be undone, + I was half boring through, half climbing through + A swamp of cedar. Choked with oil of cedar + And scurf of plants, and weary and over-heated, + And sorry I ever left the road I knew, + I paused and rested on a sort of hook + That had me by the coat as good as seated, + And since there was no other way to look, + Looked up toward heaven, and there against the blue, + Stood over me a resurrected tree, + A tree that had been down and raised again-- + A barkless spectre. He had halted too, + As if for fear of treading upon me. + I saw the strange position of his hands-- + Up at his shoulders, dragging yellow strands + Of wire with something in it from men to men. + "You here?" I said. "Where aren't you nowadays + And what's the news you carry--if you know? + And tell me where you're off for--Montreal? + Me? I'm not off for anywhere at all. + Sometimes I wander out of beaten ways + Half looking for the orchid Calypso." + + + + +RANGE-FINDING + + + The battle rent a cobweb diamond-strung + And cut a flower beside a ground bird's nest + Before it stained a single human breast. + The stricken flower bent double and so hung. + And still the bird revisited her young. + A butterfly its fall had dispossessed + A moment sought in air his flower of rest, + Then lightly stooped to it and fluttering clung. + + On the bare upland pasture there had spread + O'ernight 'twixt mullein stalks a wheel of thread + And straining cables wet with silver dew. + A sudden passing bullet shook it dry. + The indwelling spider ran to greet the fly, + But finding nothing, sullenly withdrew. + + + + +THE HILL WIFE + + +LONELINESS + +(_Her Word_) + + One ought not to have to care + So much as you and I + Care when the birds come round the house + To seem to say good-bye; + + Or care so much when they come back + With whatever it is they sing; + The truth being we are as much + Too glad for the one thing + + As we are too sad for the other here-- + With birds that fill their breasts + But with each other and themselves + And their built or driven nests. + + +HOUSE FEAR + + Always--I tell you this they learned-- + Always at night when they returned + To the lonely house from far away + To lamps unlighted and fire gone gray, + They learned to rattle the lock and key + To give whatever might chance to be + Warning and time to be off in flight: + And preferring the out- to the in-door night, + They learned to leave the house-door wide + Until they had lit the lamp inside. + + +THE SMILE + +(_Her Word_) + + I didn't like the way he went away. + That smile! It never came of being gay. + Still he smiled--did you see him?--I was sure! + Perhaps because we gave him only bread + And the wretch knew from that that we were poor. + Perhaps because he let us give instead + Of seizing from us as he might have seized. + Perhaps he mocked at us for being wed, + Or being very young (and he was pleased + To have a vision of us old and dead). + I wonder how far down the road he's got. + He's watching from the woods as like as not. + + +THE OFT-REPEATED DREAM + + She had no saying dark enough + For the dark pine that kept + Forever trying the window-latch + Of the room where they slept. + + The tireless but ineffectual hands + That with every futile pass + Made the great tree seem as a little bird + Before the mystery of glass! + + It never had been inside the room, + And only one of the two + Was afraid in an oft-repeated dream + Of what the tree might do. + + +THE IMPULSE + + It was too lonely for her there, + And too wild, + And since there were but two of them, + And no child, + + And work was little in the house, + She was free, + And followed where he furrowed field, + Or felled tree. + + She rested on a log and tossed + The fresh chips, + With a song only to herself + On her lips. + + And once she went to break a bough + Of black alder. + She strayed so far she scarcely heard + When he called her-- + + And didn't answer--didn't speak-- + Or return. + She stood, and then she ran and hid + In the fern. + + He never found her, though he looked + Everywhere, + And he asked at her mother's house + Was she there. + + Sudden and swift and light as that + The ties gave, + And he learned of finalities + Besides the grave. + + + + +THE BONFIRE + + + "Oh, let's go up the hill and scare ourselves, + As reckless as the best of them to-night, + By setting fire to all the brush we piled + With pitchy hands to wait for rain or snow. + Oh, let's not wait for rain to make it safe. + The pile is ours: we dragged it bough on bough + Down dark converging paths between the pines. + Let's not care what we do with it to-night. + Divide it? No! But burn it as one pile + The way we piled it. And let's be the talk + Of people brought to windows by a light + Thrown from somewhere against their wall-paper. + Rouse them all, both the free and not so free + With saying what they'd like to do to us + For what they'd better wait till we have done. + Let's all but bring to life this old volcano, + If that is what the mountain ever was-- + And scare ourselves. Let wild fire loose we will...." + + "And scare you too?" the children said together. + + "Why wouldn't it scare me to have a fire + Begin in smudge with ropy smoke and know + That still, if I repent, I may recall it, + But in a moment not: a little spurt + Of burning fatness, and then nothing but + The fire itself can put it out, and that + By burning out, and before it burns out + It will have roared first and mixed sparks with stars, + And sweeping round it with a flaming sword, + Made the dim trees stand back in wider circle-- + Done so much and I know not how much more + I mean it shall not do if I can bind it. + Well if it doesn't with its draft bring on + A wind to blow in earnest from some quarter, + As once it did with me upon an April. + The breezes were so spent with winter blowing + They seemed to fail the bluebirds under them + Short of the perch their languid flight was toward; + And my flame made a pinnacle to heaven + As I walked once round it in possession. + But the wind out of doors--you know the saying. + There came a gust. You used to think the trees + Made wind by fanning since you never knew + It blow but that you saw the trees in motion. + Something or someone watching made that gust. + It put the flame tip-down and dabbed the grass + Of over-winter with the least tip-touch + Your tongue gives salt or sugar in your hand. + The place it reached to blackened instantly. + The black was all there was by day-light, + That and the merest curl of cigarette smoke-- + And a flame slender as the hepaticas, + Blood-root, and violets so soon to be now. + But the black spread like black death on the ground, + And I think the sky darkened with a cloud + Like winter and evening coming on together. + There were enough things to be thought of then. + Where the field stretches toward the north + And setting sun to Hyla brook, I gave it + To flames without twice thinking, where it verges + Upon the road, to flames too, though in fear + They might find fuel there, in withered brake, + Grass its full length, old silver golden-rod, + And alder and grape vine entanglement, + To leap the dusty deadline. For my own + I took what front there was beside. I knelt + And thrust hands in and held my face away. + Fight such a fire by rubbing not by beating. + A board is the best weapon if you have it. + I had my coat. And oh, I knew, I knew, + And said out loud, I couldn't bide the smother + And heat so close in; but the thought of all + The woods and town on fire by me, and all + The town turned out to fight for me--that held me. + I trusted the brook barrier, but feared + The road would fail; and on that side the fire + Died not without a noise of crackling wood-- + Of something more than tinder-grass and weed-- + That brought me to my feet to hold it back + By leaning back myself, as if the reins + Were round my neck and I was at the plough. + I won! But I'm sure no one ever spread + Another color over a tenth the space + That I spread coal-black over in the time + It took me. Neighbors coming home from town + Couldn't believe that so much black had come there + While they had backs turned, that it hadn't been there + When they had passed an hour or so before + Going the other way and they not seen it. + They looked about for someone to have done it. + But there was no one. I was somewhere wondering + Where all my weariness had gone and why + I walked so light on air in heavy shoes + In spite of a scorched Fourth-of-July feeling. + Why wouldn't I be scared remembering that?" + + "If it scares you, what will it do to us?" + + "Scare you. But if you shrink from being scared, + What would you say to war if it should come? + That's what for reasons I should like to know-- + If you can comfort me by any answer." + + "Oh, but war's not for children--it's for men." + + "Now we are digging almost down to China. + My dears, my dears, you thought that--we all thought it. + So your mistake was ours. Haven't you heard, though, + About the ships where war has found them out + At sea, about the towns where war has come + Through opening clouds at night with droning speed + Further o'erhead than all but stars and angels,-- + And children in the ships and in the towns? + Haven't you heard what we have lived to learn? + Nothing so new--something we had forgotten: + _War is for everyone, for children too_. + I wasn't going to tell you and I mustn't. + The best way is to come up hill with me + And have our fire and laugh and be afraid." + + + + +A GIRL'S GARDEN + + + A neighbor of mine in the village + Likes to tell how one spring + When she was a girl on the farm, she did + A childlike thing. + + One day she asked her father + To give her a garden plot + To plant and tend and reap herself, + And he said, "Why not?" + + In casting about for a corner + He thought of an idle bit + Of walled-off ground where a shop had stood, + And he said, "Just it." + + And he said, "That ought to make you + An ideal one-girl farm, + And give you a chance to put some strength + On your slim-jim arm." + + It was not enough of a garden, + Her father said, to plough; + So she had to work it all by hand, + But she don't mind now. + + She wheeled the dung in the wheelbarrow + Along a stretch of road; + But she always ran away and left + Her not-nice load. + + And hid from anyone passing. + And then she begged the seed. + She says she thinks she planted one + Of all things but weed. + + A hill each of potatoes, + Radishes, lettuce, peas, + Tomatoes, beets, beans, pumpkins, corn, + And even fruit trees. + + And yes, she has long mistrusted + That a cider apple tree + In bearing there to-day is hers, + Or at least may be. + + Her crop was a miscellany + When all was said and done, + A little bit of everything, + A great deal of none. + + _Now_ when she sees in the village + How village things go, + Just when it seems to come in right, + She says, "_I_ know! + + It's as when I was a farmer----" + Oh, never by way of advice! + And she never sins by telling the tale + To the same person twice. + + + + +THE EXPOSED NEST + + + You were forever finding some new play. + So when I saw you down on hands and knees + In the meadow, busy with the new-cut hay, + Trying, I thought, to set it up on end, + I went to show you how to make it stay, + If that was your idea, against the breeze, + And, if you asked me, even help pretend + To make it root again and grow afresh. + But 'twas no make-believe with you to-day, + Nor was the grass itself your real concern, + Though I found your hand full of wilted fern, + Steel-bright June-grass, and blackening heads of clover. + 'Twas a nest full of young birds on the ground + The cutter-bar had just gone champing over + (Miraculously without tasting flesh) + And left defenseless to the heat and light. + You wanted to restore them to their right + Of something interposed between their sight + And too much world at once--could means be found. + The way the nest-full every time we stirred + Stood up to us as to a mother-bird + Whose coming home has been too long deferred, + Made me ask would the mother-bird return + And care for them in such a change of scene + And might our meddling make her more afraid. + That was a thing we could not wait to learn. + We saw the risk we took in doing good, + But dared not spare to do the best we could + Though harm should come of it; so built the screen + You had begun, and gave them back their shade. + All this to prove we cared. Why is there then + No more to tell? We turned to other things. + I haven't any memory--have you?-- + Of ever coming to the place again + To see if the birds lived the first night through, + And so at last to learn to use their wings. + + + + +"OUT, OUT--" + + + The buzz-saw snarled and rattled in the yard + And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood, + Sweet-scented stuff when the breeze drew across it. + And from there those that lifted eyes could count + Five mountain ranges one behind the other + Under the sunset far into Vermont. + And the saw snarled and rattled, snarled and rattled, + As it ran light, or had to bear a load. + And nothing happened: day was all but done. + Call it a day, I wish they might have said + To please the boy by giving him the half hour + That a boy counts so much when saved from work. + His sister stood beside them in her apron + To tell them "Supper." At the word, the saw, + As if to prove saws knew what supper meant, + Leaped out at the boy's hand, or seemed to leap-- + He must have given the hand. However it was, + Neither refused the meeting. But the hand! + The boy's first outcry was a rueful laugh, + As he swung toward them holding up the hand + Half in appeal, but half as if to keep + The life from spilling. Then the boy saw all-- + Since he was old enough to know, big boy + Doing a man's work, though a child at heart-- + He saw all spoiled. "Don't let him cut my hand off-- + The doctor, when he comes. Don't let him, sister!" + So. But the hand was gone already. + The doctor put him in the dark of ether. + He lay and puffed his lips out with his breath. + And then--the watcher at his pulse took fright. + No one believed. They listened at his heart. + Little--less--nothing!--and that ended it. + No more to build on there. And they, since they + Were not the one dead, turned to their affairs. + + + + +BROWN'S DESCENT + +OR + +THE WILLY-NILLY SLIDE + + + Brown lived at such a lofty farm + That everyone for miles could see + His lantern when he did his chores + In winter after half-past three. + + And many must have seen him make + His wild descent from there one night, + 'Cross lots, 'cross walls, 'cross everything, + Describing rings of lantern light. + + Between the house and barn the gale + Got him by something he had on + And blew him out on the icy crust + That cased the world, and he was gone! + + Walls were all buried, trees were few: + He saw no stay unless he stove + A hole in somewhere with his heel. + But though repeatedly he strove + + And stamped and said things to himself, + And sometimes something seemed to yield, + He gained no foothold, but pursued + His journey down from field to field. + + Sometimes he came with arms outspread + Like wings, revolving in the scene + Upon his longer axis, and + With no small dignity of mien. + + Faster or slower as he chanced, + Sitting or standing as he chose, + According as he feared to risk + His neck, or thought to spare his clothes, + + He never let the lantern drop. + And some exclaimed who saw afar + The figures he described with it, + "I wonder what those signals are + + Brown makes at such an hour of night! + He's celebrating something strange. + I wonder if he's sold his farm, + Or been made Master of the Grange." + + He reeled, he lurched, he bobbed, he checked; + He fell and made the lantern rattle + (But saved the light from going out.) + So half-way down he fought the battle + + Incredulous of his own bad luck. + And then becoming reconciled + To everything, he gave it up + And came down like a coasting child. + + "Well--I--be--" that was all he said, + As standing in the river road, + He looked back up the slippery slope + (Two miles it was) to his abode. + + Sometimes as an authority + On motor-cars, I'm asked if I + Should say our stock was petered out, + And this is my sincere reply: + + Yankees are what they always were. + Don't think Brown ever gave up hope + Of getting home again because + He couldn't climb that slippery slope; + + Or even thought of standing there + Until the January thaw + Should take the polish off the crust. + He bowed with grace to natural law, + + And then went round it on his feet, + After the manner of our stock; + Not much concerned for those to whom, + At that particular time o'clock, + + It must have looked as if the course + He steered was really straight away + From that which he was headed for-- + Not much concerned for them, I say; + + No more so than became a man-- + _And_ politician at odd seasons. + I've kept Brown standing in the cold + While I invested him with reasons; + + But now he snapped his eyes three times; + Then shook his lantern, saying, "Ile's + 'Bout out!" and took the long way home + By road, a matter of several miles. + + + + +THE GUM-GATHERER + + + There overtook me and drew me in + To his down-hill, early-morning stride, + And set me five miles on my road + Better than if he had had me ride, + A man with a swinging bag for load + And half the bag wound round his hand. + We talked like barking above the din + Of water we walked along beside. + And for my telling him where I'd been + And where I lived in mountain land + To be coming home the way I was, + He told me a little about himself. + He came from higher up in the pass + Where the grist of the new-beginning brooks + Is blocks split off the mountain mass-- + And hopeless grist enough it looks + Ever to grind to soil for grass. + (The way it is will do for moss.) + There he had built his stolen shack. + It had to be a stolen shack + Because of the fears of fire and loss + That trouble the sleep of lumber folk: + Visions of half the world burned black + And the sun shrunken yellow in smoke. + We know who when they come to town + Bring berries under the wagon seat, + Or a basket of eggs between their feet; + What this man brought in a cotton sack + Was gum, the gum of the mountain spruce. + He showed me lumps of the scented stuff + Like uncut jewels, dull and rough. + It comes to market golden brown; + But turns to pink between the teeth. + + I told him this is a pleasant life + To set your breast to the bark of trees + That all your days are dim beneath, + And reaching up with a little knife, + To loose the resin and take it down + And bring it to market when you please. + + + + +THE LINE-GANG + + + Here come the line-gang pioneering by. + They throw a forest down less cut than broken. + They plant dead trees for living, and the dead + They string together with a living thread. + They string an instrument against the sky + Wherein words whether beaten out or spoken + Will run as hushed as when they were a thought. + But in no hush they string it: they go past + With shouts afar to pull the cable taut, + To hold it hard until they make it fast, + To ease away--they have it. With a laugh, + An oath of towns that set the wild at naught + They bring the telephone and telegraph. + + + + +THE VANISHING RED + + + He is said to have been the last Red Man + In Acton. And the Miller is said to have laughed-- + If you like to call such a sound a laugh. + But he gave no one else a laugher's license. + For he turned suddenly grave as if to say, + "Whose business,--if I take it on myself, + Whose business--but why talk round the barn?-- + When it's just that I hold with getting a thing done with." + You can't get back and see it as he saw it. + It's too long a story to go into now. + You'd have to have been there and lived it. + Then you wouldn't have looked on it as just a matter + Of who began it between the two races. + + Some guttural exclamation of surprise + The Red Man gave in poking about the mill + Over the great big thumping shuffling mill-stone + Disgusted the Miller physically as coming + From one who had no right to be heard from. + "Come, John," he said, "you want to see the wheel pit?" + + He took him down below a cramping rafter, + And showed him, through a manhole in the floor, + The water in desperate straits like frantic fish, + Salmon and sturgeon, lashing with their tails. + Then he shut down the trap door with a ring in it + That jangled even above the general noise, + And came up stairs alone--and gave that laugh, + And said something to a man with a meal-sack + That the man with the meal-sack didn't catch--then. + Oh, yes, he showed John the wheel pit all right. + + + + +SNOW + + + The three stood listening to a fresh access + Of wind that caught against the house a moment, + Gulped snow, and then blew free again--the Coles + Dressed, but dishevelled from some hours of sleep, + Meserve belittled in the great skin coat he wore. + + Meserve was first to speak. He pointed backward + Over his shoulder with his pipe-stem, saying, + "You can just see it glancing off the roof + Making a great scroll upward toward the sky, + Long enough for recording all our names on.-- + I think I'll just call up my wife and tell her + I'm here--so far--and starting on again. + I'll call her softly so that if she's wise + And gone to sleep, she needn't wake to answer." + Three times he barely stirred the bell, then listened. + "Why, Lett, still up? Lett, I'm at Cole's. I'm late. + I called you up to say Good-night from here + Before I went to say Good-morning there.-- + I thought I would.--I know, but, Lett--I know-- + I could, but what's the sense? The rest won't be + So bad.--Give me an hour for it.--Ho, ho, + Three hours to here! But that was all up hill; + The rest is down.--Why no, no, not a wallow: + They kept their heads and took their time to it + Like darlings, both of them. They're in the barn.-- + My dear, I'm coming just the same. I didn't + Call you to ask you to invite me home.--" + He lingered for some word she wouldn't say, + Said it at last himself, "Good-night," and then, + Getting no answer, closed the telephone. + The three stood in the lamplight round the table + With lowered eyes a moment till he said, + "I'll just see how the horses are." + + "Yes, do," + Both the Coles said together. Mrs. Cole + Added: "You can judge better after seeing.-- + I want you here with me, Fred. Leave him here, + Brother Meserve. You know to find your way + Out through the shed." + + "I guess I know my way, + I guess I know where I can find my name + Carved in the shed to tell me who I am + If it don't tell me where I am. I used + To play--" + + "You tend your horses and come back. + Fred Cole, you're going to let him!" + + "Well, aren't you? + How can you help yourself?" + + "I called him Brother. + Why did I call him that?" + + "It's right enough. + That's all you ever heard him called round here. + He seems to have lost off his Christian name." + + "Christian enough I should call that myself. + He took no notice, did he? Well, at least + I didn't use it out of love of him, + The dear knows. I detest the thought of him + With his ten children under ten years old. + I hate his wretched little Racker Sect, + All's ever I heard of it, which isn't much. + But that's not saying--Look, Fred Cole, it's twelve, + Isn't it, now? He's been here half an hour. + He says he left the village store at nine. + Three hours to do four miles--a mile an hour + Or not much better. Why, it doesn't seem + As if a man could move that slow and move. + Try to think what he did with all that time. + And three miles more to go!" + + "Don't let him go. + Stick to him, Helen. Make him answer you. + That sort of man talks straight on all his life + From the last thing he said himself, stone deaf + To anything anyone else may say. + I should have thought, though, you could make him hear you." + + "What is he doing out a night like this? + Why can't he stay at home?" + + "He had to preach." + + "It's no night to be out." + + "He may be small, + He may be good, but one thing's sure, he's tough." + + "And strong of stale tobacco." + + "He'll pull through." + + "You only say so. Not another house + Or shelter to put into from this place + To theirs. I'm going to call his wife again." + + "Wait and he may. Let's see what he will do. + Let's see if he will think of her again. + But then I doubt he's thinking of himself + He doesn't look on it as anything." + + "He shan't go--there!" + + "It _is_ a night, my dear." + + "One thing: he didn't drag God into it." + + "He don't consider it a case for God." + + "You think so, do you? You don't know the kind. + He's getting up a miracle this minute. + Privately--to himself, right now, he's thinking + He'll make a case of it if he succeeds, + But keep still if he fails." + + "Keep still all over. + He'll be dead--dead and buried." + + "Such a trouble! + Not but I've every reason not to care + What happens to him if it only takes + Some of the sanctimonious conceit + Out of one of those pious scalawags." + + "Nonsense to that! You want to see him safe." + + "You like the runt." + + "Don't you a little?" + + "Well, + I don't like what he's doing, which is what + You like, and like him for." + + "Oh, yes you do. + You like your fun as well as anyone; + Only you women have to put these airs on + To impress men. You've got us so ashamed + Of being men we can't look at a good fight + Between two boys and not feel bound to stop it. + Let the man freeze an ear or two, I say.-- + He's here. I leave him all to you. Go in + And save his life.--All right, come in, Meserve. + Sit down, sit down. How did you find the horses?" + + "Fine, fine." + + "And ready for some more? My wife here + Says it won't do. You've got to give it up." + + "Won't you to please me? Please! If I say please? + Mr. Meserve, I'll leave it to _your_ wife. + What _did_ your wife say on the telephone?" + + Meserve seemed to heed nothing but the lamp + Or something not far from it on the table. + By straightening out and lifting a forefinger, + He pointed with his hand from where it lay + Like a white crumpled spider on his knee: + "That leaf there in your open book! It moved + Just then, I thought. It's stood erect like that, + There on the table, ever since I came, + Trying to turn itself backward or forward, + I've had my eye on it to make out which; + If forward, then it's with a friend's impatience-- + You see I know--to get you on to things + It wants to see how you will take, if backward + It's from regret for something you have passed + And failed to see the good of. Never mind, + Things must expect to come in front of us + A many times--I don't say just how many-- + That varies with the things--before we see them. + One of the lies would make it out that nothing + Ever presents itself before us twice. + Where would we be at last if that were so? + Our very life depends on everything's + Recurring till we answer from within. + The thousandth time may prove the charm.--That leaf! + It can't turn either way. It needs the wind's help. + But the wind didn't move it if it moved. + It moved itself. The wind's at naught in here. + It couldn't stir so sensitively poised + A thing as that. It couldn't reach the lamp + To get a puff of black smoke from the flame, + Or blow a rumple in the collie's coat. + You make a little foursquare block of air, + Quiet and light and warm, in spite of all + The illimitable dark and cold and storm, + And by so doing give these three, lamp, dog, + And book-leaf, that keep near you, their repose; + Though for all anyone can tell, repose + May be the thing you haven't, yet you give it. + So false it is that what we haven't we can't give; + So false, that what we always say is true. + I'll have to turn the leaf if no one else will. + It won't lie down. Then let it stand. Who cares?" + + "I shouldn't want to hurry you, Meserve, + But if you're going--Say you'll stay, you know? + But let me raise this curtain on a scene, + And show you how it's piling up against you. + You see the snow-white through the white of frost? + Ask Helen how far up the sash it's climbed + Since last we read the gage." + + "It looks as if + Some pallid thing had squashed its features flat + And its eyes shut with overeagerness + To see what people found so interesting + In one another, and had gone to sleep + Of its own stupid lack of understanding, + Or broken its white neck of mushroom stuff + Short off, and died against the window-pane." + + "Brother Meserve, take care, you'll scare yourself + More than you will us with such nightmare talk. + It's you it matters to, because it's you + Who have to go out into it alone." + + "Let him talk, Helen, and perhaps he'll stay." + + "Before you drop the curtain--I'm reminded: + You recollect the boy who came out here + To breathe the air one winter--had a room + Down at the Averys'? Well, one sunny morning + After a downy storm, he passed our place + And found me banking up the house with snow. + And I was burrowing in deep for warmth, + Piling it well above the window-sills. + The snow against the window caught his eye. + 'Hey, that's a pretty thought'--those were his words. + 'So you can think it's six feet deep outside, + While you sit warm and read up balanced rations. + You can't get too much winter in the winter.' + Those were his words. And he went home and all + But banked the daylight out of Avery's windows. + Now you and I would go to no such length. + At the same time you can't deny it makes + It not a mite worse, sitting here, we three, + Playing our fancy, to have the snowline run + So high across the pane outside. There where + There is a sort of tunnel in the frost + More like a tunnel than a hole--way down + At the far end of it you see a stir + And quiver like the frayed edge of the drift + Blown in the wind. I _like_ that--I like _that_. + Well, now I leave you, people." + + "Come, Meserve, + We thought you were deciding not to go-- + The ways you found to say the praise of comfort + And being where you are. You want to stay." + + "I'll own it's cold for such a fall of snow. + This house is frozen brittle, all except + This room you sit in. If you think the wind + Sounds further off, it's not because it's dying; + You're further under in the snow--that's all-- + And feel it less. Hear the soft bombs of dust + It bursts against us at the chimney mouth, + And at the eaves. I like it from inside + More than I shall out in it. But the horses + Are rested and it's time to say good-night, + And let you get to bed again. Good-night, + Sorry I had to break in on your sleep." + + "Lucky for you you did. Lucky for you + You had us for a half-way station + To stop at. If you were the kind of man + Paid heed to women, you'd take my advice + And for your family's sake stay where you are. + But what good is my saying it over and over? + You've done more than you had a right to think + You could do--_now_. You know the risk you take + In going on." + + "Our snow-storms as a rule + Aren't looked on as man-killers, and although + I'd rather be the beast that sleeps the sleep + Under it all, his door sealed up and lost, + Than the man fighting it to keep above it, + Yet think of the small birds at roost and not + In nests. Shall I be counted less than they are? + Their bulk in water would be frozen rock + In no time out to-night. And yet to-morrow + They will come budding boughs from tree to tree + Flirting their wings and saying Chickadee, + As if not knowing what you meant by the word storm." + + "But why when no one wants you to go on? + Your wife--she doesn't want you to. We don't, + And you yourself don't want to. Who else is there?" + + "Save us from being cornered by a woman. + Well, there's"--She told Fred afterward that in + The pause right there, she thought the dreaded word + Was coming, "God." But no, he only said + "Well, there's--the storm. That says I must go on. + That wants me as a war might if it came. + Ask any man." + + He threw her that as something + To last her till he got outside the door. + He had Cole with him to the barn to see him off. + When Cole returned he found his wife still standing + Beside the table near the open book, + Not reading it. + + "Well, what kind of a man + Do you call that?" she said. + + "He had the gift + Of words, or is it tongues, I ought to say?" + + "Was ever such a man for seeing likeness?" + + "Or disregarding people's civil questions-- + What? We've found out in one hour more about him + Than we had seeing him pass by in the road + A thousand times. If that's the way he preaches! + You didn't think you'd keep him after all. + Oh, I'm not blaming you. He didn't leave you + Much say in the matter, and I'm just as glad + We're not in for a night of him. No sleep + If he had stayed. The least thing set him going. + It's quiet as an empty church without him." + + "But how much better off are we as it is? + We'll have to sit here till we know he's safe." + + "Yes, I suppose you'll want to, but I shouldn't. + He knows what he can do, or he wouldn't try. + Get into bed I say, and get some rest. + He won't come back, and if he telephones, + It won't be for an hour or two." + + "Well then. + We can't be any help by sitting here + And living his fight through with him, I suppose." + + * * * * * + + Cole had been telephoning in the dark. + Mrs. Cole's voice came from an inner room: + "Did she call you or you call her?" + + "She me. + You'd better dress: you won't go back to bed. + We must have been asleep: it's three and after." + + "Had she been ringing long? I'll get my wrapper. + I want to speak to her." + + "All she said was, + He hadn't come and had he really started." + + "She knew he had, poor thing, two hours ago." + + "He had the shovel. He'll have made a fight." + + "Why did I ever let him leave this house!" + + "Don't begin that. You did the best you could + To keep him--though perhaps you didn't quite + Conceal a wish to see him show the spunk + To disobey you. Much his wife'll thank you." + + "Fred, after all I said! You shan't make out + That it was any way but what it was. + Did she let on by any word she said + She didn't thank me?" + + "When I told her 'Gone,' + 'Well then,' she said, and 'Well then'--like a threat. + And then her voice came scraping slow: 'Oh, you, + Why did you let him go'?" + + "Asked why we let him? + You let me there. I'll ask her why she let him. + She didn't dare to speak when he was here. + Their number's--twenty-one? The thing won't work. + Someone's receiver's down. The handle stumbles. + The stubborn thing, the way it jars your arm! + It's theirs. She's dropped it from her hand and gone." + + "Try speaking. Say 'Hello'!" + + "Hello. Hello." + + "What do you hear?" + + "I hear an empty room-- + You know--it sounds that way. And yes, I hear-- + I think I hear a clock--and windows rattling. + No step though. If she's there she's sitting down." + + "Shout, she may hear you." + + "Shouting is no good." + + "Keep speaking then." + + "Hello. Hello. Hello. + You don't suppose--? She wouldn't go out doors?" + + "I'm half afraid that's just what she might do." + + "And leave the children?" + + "Wait and call again. + You can't hear whether she has left the door + Wide open and the wind's blown out the lamp + And the fire's died and the room's dark and cold?" + + "One of two things, either she's gone to bed + Or gone out doors." + + "In which case both are lost. + Do you know what she's like? Have you ever met her? + It's strange she doesn't want to speak to us." + + "Fred, see if you can hear what I hear. Come." + + "A clock maybe." + + "Don't you hear something else?" + + "Not talking." + + "No." + + "Why, yes, I hear--what is it?" + + "What do you say it is?" + + "A baby's crying! + Frantic it sounds, though muffled and far off." + + "Its mother wouldn't let it cry like that, + Not if she's there." + + "What do you make of it?" + + "There's only one thing possible to make, + That is, assuming--that she has gone out. + Of course she hasn't though." They both sat down + Helpless. "There's nothing we can do till morning." + + "Fred, I shan't let you think of going out." + + "Hold on." The double bell began to chirp. + They started up. Fred took the telephone. + "Hello, Meserve. You're there, then!--And your wife? + Good! Why I asked--she didn't seem to answer. + He says she went to let him in the barn.-- + We're glad. Oh, say no more about it, man. + Drop in and see us when you're passing." + + "Well, + She has him then, though what she wants him for + I _don't_ see." + + "Possibly not for herself. + Maybe she only wants him for the children." + + "The whole to-do seems to have been for nothing. + What spoiled our night was to him just his fun. + What did he come in for?--To talk and visit? + Thought he'd just call to tell us it was snowing. + If he thinks he is going to make our house + A halfway coffee house 'twixt town and nowhere----" + + "I thought you'd feel you'd been too much concerned." + + "You think you haven't been concerned yourself." + + "If you mean he was inconsiderate + To rout us out to think for him at midnight + And then take our advice no more than nothing, + Why, I agree with you. But let's forgive him. + We've had a share in one night of his life. + What'll you bet he ever calls again?" + + + + +_THE SOUND OF THE TREES_ + + + _I wonder about the trees. + Why do we wish to bear + Forever the noise of these + More than another noise + So close to our dwelling place? + We suffer them by the day + Till we lose all measure of pace, + And fixity in our joys, + And acquire a listening air. + They are that that talks of going + But never gets away; + And that talks no less for knowing, + As it grows wiser and older, + That now it means to stay. + My feet tug at the floor + And my head sways to my shoulder + Sometimes when I watch trees sway, + From the window or the door. + I shall set forth for somewhere, + I shall make the reckless choice + Some day when they are in voice + And tossing so as to scare + The white clouds over them on. + I shall have less to say, + But I shall be gone._ + + * * * * * + + + + +SOME RECENT POETRY + + Stephen Vincent Benét's + Heavens and Earth + + Thomas Burke's + The Song Book of Quong Lee of Limehouse + + Richard Burton's + Poems of Earth's Meaning + + Francis Carlin's + My Ireland + The Cairn of Stars + + Padraic Colum's + Wild Earth and Other Poems + + Grace Hazard Conkling's + Wilderness Songs + + Walter De La Mare's + The Listeners and Other Poems + Peacock Pie. Ill'd by W. H. Robinson + Motley and Other Poems + Collected Poems 1901-1918. 2 Vols. + + Robert Frost's + North of Boston + Mountain Interval. New Edition, with Portrait + A Boy's Will + + Carl Sandburg's + Cornhuskers + Chicago Poems + + Lew Sarrett's + Many Many Moons + + Louis Untermeyer's + These Times + ---- and Other Poets + Poems of Heinrich Heine (Translated) + The New Era in American Poetry + + Margaret Widdemer's + The Old Road to Paradise + Factories and Other Poems + + * * * * * + +THE HOME BOOK OF VERSE + + American and English 1580-1918 + Selected and arranged by Burton Egbert Stevenson + Third Edition Revised and Enlarged + +Over 4,000 pages of the best verse in English, ranging all the way +from the classics to some of the best newspaper verse of to-day. In +several different editions. + + * * * * * + + HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY + PUBLISHERS + NEW YORK + + * * * * * + + + + +Transcriber Notes + +Typographical inconsistencies have been changed and are listed below. + +Archaic and variable spelling and hyphenation is preserved. + +Author's punctuation style is preserved, except where noted. + +Passages in italics indicated by _underscores_. + +Passages in bold indicated by =equal signs=. + + +Transcriber Changes + +The following changes were made to the original text: + + Page 46: Added period after =trees= (Tomatoes, beets, + beans, pumpkins, corn, And even fruit =trees.=) + + Page 63: Added stanza break between go and Don't (And + three miles more to =go!" "Don't= let him go.) + + Page 63: Single quote changed to double after =through= + ("He'll pull =through."=) + + Page 72: Removed extra stanza break after =stumbles= + (The handle =stumbles. The= stubborn thing, the way it + jars your arm!) + + Page 74: Removed extra stanza break after =wife= + ("Hello, Meserve. You're there, then!--And your =wife? + Good!= Why I asked--she didn't seem to answer.) + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mountain Interval, by Robert Frost + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MOUNTAIN INTERVAL *** + +***** This file should be named 29345-8.txt or 29345-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/3/4/29345/ + +Produced by David Starner, Katherine Ward and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Mountain Interval + +Author: Robert Frost + +Release Date: July 7, 2009 [EBook #29345] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MOUNTAIN INTERVAL *** + + + + +Produced by David Starner, Katherine Ward and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class='figtag'> +<a name='linki_1' id='linki_1'></a> +</div> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/frost_1.jpg' alt='' title='' width='276' height='400' /><br /> +<p class='caption'> +<span class="larger">ROBERT FROST</span><br /> + From the original in plaster by <span class='smcap'>Aroldo Du Chêne</span><br /> + <span class="smaller"><i>Copyright, Henry Holt and Company</i></span><br /> +</p> +</div> +<div class="center padtop"> +<h1>MOUNTAIN INTERVAL</h1> +<p class="larger padtop" ><b>BY<br /> +ROBERT FROST</b></p> +<p class="padtop smaller" >NEW YORK<br /> +HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY</p> +<hr class='pb' /> +<p><span class='smcap'>Copyright, 1916, 1921<br /> +by</span><br /> +HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY</p> +<p><br /><i>May, 1931</i></p> +<p class="padtop muchsmaller" >PRINTED IN THE U. S. A. BY<br /> +THE QUINN & BODEN COMPANY<br /> +RAHWAY, N. J.</p> +<hr class='pb' /> +<p><span class="larger">TO YOU</span><br /> +<span class='smcap'>who least need reminding</span></p> +</div> +<blockquote> +<p>that before this interval of the South Branch under +black mountains, there was another interval, the +Upper at Plymouth, where we walked in spring beyond +the covered bridge; but that the first interval +of all was the old farm, our brook interval, so called +by the man we had it from in sale.</p> +</blockquote> +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> +<table border='0' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='Contents' style='margin:1em auto;'> +<tr> + <td /> + <td valign='top' align='right'><p class="smaller" style='text-align:right;'>PAGE</p></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>THE ROAD NOT TAKEN</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#THE_ROAD_NOT_TAKEN'>9</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>CHRISTMAS TREES</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHRISTMAS_TREES_A_CHRISTMAS_CIRCULAR_LETTER'>11</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>AN OLD MAN’S WINTER NIGHT</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#AN_OLD_MANS_WINTER_NIGHT'>14</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>A PATCH OF OLD SNOW</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#A_PATCH_OF_OLD_SNOW'>15</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>IN THE HOME STRETCH</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IN_THE_HOME_STRETCH'>16</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>THE TELEPHONE</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#THE_TELEPHONE'>24</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>MEETING AND PASSING</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#MEETING_AND_PASSING'>25</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>HYLA BROOK</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#HYLA_BROOK'>26</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>THE OVEN BIRD</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#THE_OVEN_BIRD'>27</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>BOND AND FREE</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#BOND_AND_FREE'>28</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>BIRCHES</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#BIRCHES'>29</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>PEA BRUSH</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#PEA_BRUSH'>31</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>PUTTING IN THE SEED</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#PUTTING_IN_THE_SEED'>32</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>A TIME TO TALK</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#A_TIME_TO_TALK'>33</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>THE COW IN APPLE TIME</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#THE_COW_IN_APPLE_TIME'>34</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>AN ENCOUNTER</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#AN_ENCOUNTER'>35</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>RANGE-FINDING</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#RANGEFINDING'>36</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>THE HILL WIFE</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#THE_HILL_WIFE'>37</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'><table summary='' cellpadding='2'><tr><td align='right'>I</td><td align='left'>LONELINESS––HER WORD</td><td align='right' style="width: 5em"><a href="#page_37">37</a></td></tr><tr><td align='right'>II</td><td align='left'>HOUSE FEAR</td><td align='right'><a href="#page_37">37</a></td></tr><tr><td align='right'>III</td><td align='left'>THE SMILE––HER WORD</td><td align='right'><a href="#page_38">38</a></td></tr><tr><td align='right'>IV</td><td align='left'>THE OFT-REPEATED DREAM</td><td align='right'><a href="#page_38">38</a></td></tr><tr><td align='right'>V</td><td align='left'>THE IMPULSE</td><td align='right'><a href="#page_39">39</a></td></tr></table></td> + <td /> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>THE BONFIRE</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#THE_BONFIRE'>41</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>A GIRL’S GARDEN</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#A_GIRLS_GARDEN'>45</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>THE EXPOSED NEST</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#THE_EXPOSED_NEST'>48</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>“OUT, OUT––”</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#OUT_OUT'>50</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>BROWN’S DESCENT OR THE WILLY-NILLY SLIDE</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#BROWNS_DESCENT_OR__THE_WILLYNILLY_SLIDE'>52</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>THE GUM-GATHERER</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#THE_GUMGATHERER'>56</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>THE LINE-GANG</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#THE_LINEGANG'>58</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>THE VANISHING RED</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#THE_VANISHING_RED'>59</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>SNOW</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#SNOW'>61</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>THE SOUND OF THE TREES</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#THE_SOUND_OF_THE_TREES'>75</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9' name='page_9'></a>9</span> +<a name='THE_ROAD_NOT_TAKEN' id='THE_ROAD_NOT_TAKEN'></a> +<h2><i>THE ROAD NOT TAKEN</i></h2> +</div> +<div class="italicized"> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'> +<i>Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,</i></p> +<p class='cg'> +And sorry I could not travel both</p> +<p class='cg'> +And be one traveler, long I stood</p> +<p class='cg'> +And looked down one as far as I could</p> +<p class='cg'> +<i>To where it bent in the undergrowth;</i></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +<i>Then took the other, as just as fair,</i></p> +<p class='cg'> +And having perhaps the better claim,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Because it was grassy and wanted wear;</p> +<p class='cg'> +Though as for that the passing there</p> +<p class='cg'> +<i>Had worn them really about the same,</i></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +<i>And both that morning equally lay</i></p> +<p class='cg'> +In leaves no step had trodden black.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Oh, I kept the first for another day!</p> +<p class='cg'> +Yet knowing how way leads on to way,</p> +<p class='cg'> +<i>I doubted if I should ever come back.</i></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +<i>I shall be telling this with a sigh</i></p> +<p class='cg'> +Somewhere ages and ages hence:</p> +<p class='cg'> +Two roads diverged in a wood, and I––</p> +<p class='cg'> +I took the one less traveled by,</p> +<p class='cg'> +<i>And that has made all the difference.</i></p> +</td></tr></table> +</div> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11' name='page_11'></a>11</span> +<a name='CHRISTMAS_TREES_A_CHRISTMAS_CIRCULAR_LETTER' id='CHRISTMAS_TREES_A_CHRISTMAS_CIRCULAR_LETTER'></a> +<h2>CHRISTMAS TREES</h2> +<p>(<i>A Christmas Circular Letter</i>)</p> +</div> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'> +<span class="dcap">The</span> city had withdrawn into itself</p> +<p class='cg'> +And left at last the country to the country;</p> +<p class='cg'> +When between whirls of snow not come to lie</p> +<p class='cg'> +And whirls of foliage not yet laid, there drove</p> +<p class='cg'> +A stranger to our yard, who looked the city,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Yet did in country fashion in that there</p> +<p class='cg'> +He sat and waited till he drew us out</p> +<p class='cg'> +A-buttoning coats to ask him who he was.</p> +<p class='cg'> +He proved to be the city come again</p> +<p class='cg'> +To look for something it had left behind</p> +<p class='cg'> +And could not do without and keep its Christmas.</p> +<p class='cg'> +He asked if I would sell my Christmas trees;</p> +<p class='cg'> +My woods––the young fir balsams like a place</p> +<p class='cg'> +Where houses all are churches and have spires.</p> +<p class='cg'> +I hadn’t thought of them as Christmas Trees.</p> +<p class='cg'> +I doubt if I was tempted for a moment</p> +<p class='cg'> +To sell them off their feet to go in cars</p> +<p class='cg'> +And leave the slope behind the house all bare,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Where the sun shines now no warmer than the moon.</p> +<p class='cg'> +I’d hate to have them know it if I was.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Yet more I’d hate to hold my trees except</p> +<p class='cg'> +As others hold theirs or refuse for them,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Beyond the time of profitable growth,</p> +<p class='cg'> +The trial by market everything must come to.</p> +<p class='cg'> +I dallied so much with the thought of selling.</p> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12' name='page_12'></a>12</span> +<p class='cg'> +Then whether from mistaken courtesy</p> +<p class='cg'> +And fear of seeming short of speech, or whether</p> +<p class='cg'> +From hope of hearing good of what was mine,</p> +<p class='cg'> +I said, “There aren’t enough to be worth while.”</p> +<p class='cg'> +“I could soon tell how many they would cut,</p> +<p class='cg'> +You let me look them over.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_right'>“You could look.</p> +<p class='cg'> +But don’t expect I’m going to let you have them.”</p> +<p class='cg'> +Pasture they spring in, some in clumps too close</p> +<p class='cg'> +That lop each other of boughs, but not a few</p> +<p class='cg'> +Quite solitary and having equal boughs</p> +<p class='cg'> +All round and round. The latter he nodded “Yes” to,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Or paused to say beneath some lovelier one,</p> +<p class='cg'> +With a buyer’s moderation, “That would do.”</p> +<p class='cg'> +I thought so too, but wasn’t there to say so.</p> +<p class='cg'> +We climbed the pasture on the south, crossed over,</p> +<p class='cg'> +And came down on the north.</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_right'>He said, “A thousand.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“A thousand Christmas trees!––at what apiece?”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +He felt some need of softening that to me:</p> +<p class='cg'> +“A thousand trees would come to thirty dollars.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +Then I was certain I had never meant</p> +<p class='cg'> +To let him have them. Never show surprise!</p> +<p class='cg'> +But thirty dollars seemed so small beside</p> +<p class='cg'> +The extent of pasture I should strip, three cents</p> +<p class='cg'> +(For that was all they figured out apiece),</p> +<p class='cg'> +Three cents so small beside the dollar friends</p> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13' name='page_13'></a>13</span> +<p class='cg'> +I should be writing to within the hour</p> +<p class='cg'> +Would pay in cities for good trees like those,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Regular vestry-trees whole Sunday Schools</p> +<p class='cg'> +Could hang enough on to pick off enough.</p> +<p class='cg'> +A thousand Christmas trees I didn’t know I had!</p> +<p class='cg'> +Worth three cents more to give away than sell,</p> +<p class='cg'> +As may be shown by a simple calculation.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Too bad I couldn’t lay one in a letter.</p> +<p class='cg'> +I can’t help wishing I could send you one,</p> +<p class='cg'> +In wishing you herewith a Merry Christmas.</p> +</td></tr></table> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14' name='page_14'></a>14</span> +<a name='AN_OLD_MANS_WINTER_NIGHT' id='AN_OLD_MANS_WINTER_NIGHT'></a> +<h2>AN OLD MAN’S WINTER NIGHT</h2> +</div> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'> +<span class="dcap">All</span> out of doors looked darkly in at him</p> +<p class='cg'> +Through the thin frost, almost in separate stars,</p> +<p class='cg'> +That gathers on the pane in empty rooms.</p> +<p class='cg'> +What kept his eyes from giving back the gaze</p> +<p class='cg'> +Was the lamp tilted near them in his hand.</p> +<p class='cg'> +What kept him from remembering what it was</p> +<p class='cg'> +That brought him to that creaking room was age.</p> +<p class='cg'> +He stood with barrels round him––at a loss.</p> +<p class='cg'> +And having scared the cellar under him</p> +<p class='cg'> +In clomping there, he scared it once again</p> +<p class='cg'> +In clomping off;––and scared the outer night,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Which has its sounds, familiar, like the roar</p> +<p class='cg'> +Of trees and crack of branches, common things,</p> +<p class='cg'> +But nothing so like beating on a box.</p> +<p class='cg'> +A light he was to no one but himself</p> +<p class='cg'> +Where now he sat, concerned with he knew what,</p> +<p class='cg'> +A quiet light, and then not even that.</p> +<p class='cg'> +He consigned to the moon, such as she was,</p> +<p class='cg'> +So late-arising, to the broken moon</p> +<p class='cg'> +As better than the sun in any case</p> +<p class='cg'> +For such a charge, his snow upon the roof,</p> +<p class='cg'> +His icicles along the wall to keep;</p> +<p class='cg'> +And slept. The log that shifted with a jolt</p> +<p class='cg'> +Once in the stove, disturbed him and he shifted,</p> +<p class='cg'> +And eased his heavy breathing, but still slept.</p> +<p class='cg'> +One aged man––one man––can’t fill a house,</p> +<p class='cg'> +A farm, a countryside, or if he can,</p> +<p class='cg'> +It’s thus he does it of a winter night.</p> +</td></tr></table> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15' name='page_15'></a>15</span> +<a name='A_PATCH_OF_OLD_SNOW' id='A_PATCH_OF_OLD_SNOW'></a> +<h2>A PATCH OF OLD SNOW</h2> +</div> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'> +<span class="dcap">There’s</span> a patch of old snow in a corner</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>That I should have guessed</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +Was a blow-away paper the rain</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>Had brought to rest.</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +It is speckled with grime as if</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>Small print overspread it,</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +The news of a day I’ve forgotten––</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>If I ever read it.</span></p> +</td></tr></table> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16' name='page_16'></a>16</span> +<a name='IN_THE_HOME_STRETCH' id='IN_THE_HOME_STRETCH'></a> +<h2>IN THE HOME STRETCH</h2> +</div> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'> +<span class="dcap">She</span> stood against the kitchen sink, and looked</p> +<p class='cg'> +Over the sink out through a dusty window</p> +<p class='cg'> +At weeds the water from the sink made tall.</p> +<p class='cg'> +She wore her cape; her hat was in her hand.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Behind her was confusion in the room,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Of chairs turned upside down to sit like people</p> +<p class='cg'> +In other chairs, and something, come to look,</p> +<p class='cg'> +For every room a house has––parlor, bed-room,</p> +<p class='cg'> +And dining-room––thrown pell-mell in the kitchen.</p> +<p class='cg'> +And now and then a smudged, infernal face</p> +<p class='cg'> +Looked in a door behind her and addressed</p> +<p class='cg'> +Her back. She always answered without turning.</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“Where will I put this walnut bureau, lady?”</p> +<p class='cg'> +“Put it on top of something that’s on top</p> +<p class='cg'> +Of something else,” she laughed. “Oh, put it where</p> +<p class='cg'> +You can to-night, and go. It’s almost dark;</p> +<p class='cg'> +You must be getting started back to town.”</p> +<p class='cg'> +Another blackened face thrust in and looked</p> +<p class='cg'> +And smiled, and when she did not turn, spoke gently,</p> +<p class='cg'> +“What are you seeing out the window, <i>lady</i>?”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“Never was I beladied so before.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Would evidence of having been called lady</p> +<p class='cg'> +More than so many times make me a lady</p> +<p class='cg'> +In common law, I wonder.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17' name='page_17'></a>17</span> +<p class='cg_right'>“But I ask,</p> +<p class='cg'> +What are you seeing out the window, lady?”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“What I’ll be seeing more of in the years</p> +<p class='cg'> +To come as here I stand and go the round</p> +<p class='cg'> +Of many plates with towels many times.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“And what is that? You only put me off.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“Rank weeds that love the water from the dish-pan</p> +<p class='cg'> +More than some women like the dish-pan, Joe;</p> +<p class='cg'> +A little stretch of mowing-field for you;</p> +<p class='cg'> +Not much of that until I come to woods</p> +<p class='cg'> +That end all. And it’s scarce enough to call</p> +<p class='cg'> +A view.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_right'>“And yet you think you like it, dear?”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“That’s what you’re so concerned to know! You hope</p> +<p class='cg'> +I like it. Bang goes something big away</p> +<p class='cg'> +Off there upstairs. The very tread of men</p> +<p class='cg'> +As great as those is shattering to the frame</p> +<p class='cg'> +Of such a little house. Once left alone,</p> +<p class='cg'> +You and I, dear, will go with softer steps</p> +<p class='cg'> +Up and down stairs and through the rooms, and none</p> +<p class='cg'> +But sudden winds that snatch them from our hands</p> +<p class='cg'> +Will ever slam the doors.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_right'>“I think you see</p> +<p class='cg'> +More than you like to own to out that window.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“No; for besides the things I tell you of,</p> +<p class='cg'> +I only see the years. They come and go</p> +<p class='cg'> +In alternation with the weeds, the field,</p> +<p class='cg'> +The wood.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18' name='page_18'></a>18</span> +<p class='cg_center'>“What kind of years?”</p> +<p class='cg_right'>“Why, latter years––</p> +<p class='cg'> +Different from early years.”</p> +<p class='cg_right'>“I see them, too.</p> +<p class='cg'> +You didn’t count them?”</p> +<p class='cg_right'>“No, the further off</p> +<p class='cg'> +So ran together that I didn’t try to.</p> +<p class='cg'> +It can scarce be that they would be in number</p> +<p class='cg'> +We’d care to know, for we are not young now.</p> +<p class='cg'> +And bang goes something else away off there.</p> +<p class='cg'> +It sounds as if it were the men went down,</p> +<p class='cg'> +And every crash meant one less to return</p> +<p class='cg'> +To lighted city streets we, too, have known,</p> +<p class='cg'> +But now are giving up for country darkness.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“Come from that window where you see too much for me,</p> +<p class='cg'> +And take a livelier view of things from here.</p> +<p class='cg'> +They’re going. Watch this husky swarming up</p> +<p class='cg'> +Over the wheel into the sky-high seat,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Lighting his pipe now, squinting down his nose</p> +<p class='cg'> +At the flame burning downward as he sucks it.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“See how it makes his nose-side bright, a proof</p> +<p class='cg'> +How dark it’s getting. Can you tell what time</p> +<p class='cg'> +It is by that? Or by the moon? The new moon!</p> +<p class='cg'> +What shoulder did I see her over? Neither.</p> +<p class='cg'> +A wire she is of silver, as new as we</p> +<p class='cg'> +To everything. Her light won’t last us long.</p> +<p class='cg'> +It’s something, though, to know we’re going to have her</p> +<p class='cg'> +Night after night and stronger every night</p> +<p class='cg'> +To see us through our first two weeks. But, Joe,</p> +<p class='cg'> +The stove! Before they go! Knock on the window;</p> +<p class='cg'> +Ask them to help you get it on its feet.</p> +<p class='cg'> +We stand here dreaming. Hurry! Call them back!”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“They’re not gone yet.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19' name='page_19'></a>19</span> +<p class='cg_right'>“We’ve got to have the stove,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Whatever else we want for. And a light.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Have we a piece of candle if the lamp</p> +<p class='cg'> +And oil are buried out of reach?”</p> +<p class='cg_right'>Again</p> +<p class='cg'> +The house was full of tramping, and the dark,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Door-filling men burst in and seized the stove.</p> +<p class='cg'> +A cannon-mouth-like hole was in the wall,</p> +<p class='cg'> +To which they set it true by eye; and then</p> +<p class='cg'> +Came up the jointed stovepipe in their hands,</p> +<p class='cg'> +So much too light and airy for their strength</p> +<p class='cg'> +It almost seemed to come ballooning up,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Slipping from clumsy clutches toward the ceiling.</p> +<p class='cg'> +“A fit!” said one, and banged a stovepipe shoulder.</p> +<p class='cg'> +“It’s good luck when you move in to begin</p> +<p class='cg'> +With good luck with your stovepipe. Never mind,</p> +<p class='cg'> +It’s not so bad in the country, settled down,</p> +<p class='cg'> +When people’re getting on in life. You’ll like it.”</p> +<p class='cg'> +Joe said: “You big boys ought to find a farm,</p> +<p class='cg'> +And make good farmers, and leave other fellows</p> +<p class='cg'> +The city work to do. There’s not enough</p> +<p class='cg'> +For everybody as it is in there.”</p> +<p class='cg'> +“God!” one said wildly, and, when no one spoke:</p> +<p class='cg'> +“Say that to Jimmy here. He needs a farm.”</p> +<p class='cg'> +But Jimmy only made his jaw recede</p> +<p class='cg'> +Fool-like, and rolled his eyes as if to say</p> +<p class='cg'> +He saw himself a farmer. Then there was a French boy</p> +<p class='cg'> +Who said with seriousness that made them laugh,</p> +<p class='cg'> +“Ma friend, you ain’t know what it is you’re ask.”</p> +<p class='cg'> +He doffed his cap and held it with both hands</p> +<p class='cg'> +Across his chest to make as ’twere a bow:</p> +<p class='cg'> +“We’re giving you our chances on de farm.”</p> +<p class='cg'> +And then they all turned to with deafening boots</p> +<p class='cg'> +And put each other bodily out of the house.</p> +<p class='cg'> +“Goodby to them! We puzzle them. They think––</p> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20' name='page_20'></a>20</span> +<p class='cg'> +I don’t know what they think we see in what</p> +<p class='cg'> +They leave us to: that pasture slope that seems</p> +<p class='cg'> +The back some farm presents us; and your woods</p> +<p class='cg'> +To northward from your window at the sink,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Waiting to steal a step on us whenever</p> +<p class='cg'> +We drop our eyes or turn to other things,</p> +<p class='cg'> +As in the game ‘Ten-step’ the children play.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“Good boys they seemed, and let them love the city.</p> +<p class='cg'> +All they could say was ‘God!’ when you proposed</p> +<p class='cg'> +Their coming out and making useful farmers.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“Did they make something lonesome go through you?</p> +<p class='cg'> +It would take more than them to sicken you––</p> +<p class='cg'> +Us of our bargain. But they left us so</p> +<p class='cg'> +As to our fate, like fools past reasoning with.</p> +<p class='cg'> +They almost shook <i>me</i>.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_right'>“It’s all so much</p> +<p class='cg'> +What we have always wanted, I confess</p> +<p class='cg'> +It’s seeming bad for a moment makes it seem</p> +<p class='cg'> +Even worse still, and so on down, down, down.</p> +<p class='cg'> +It’s nothing; it’s their leaving us at dusk.</p> +<p class='cg'> +I never bore it well when people went.</p> +<p class='cg'> +The first night after guests have gone, the house</p> +<p class='cg'> +Seems haunted or exposed. I always take</p> +<p class='cg'> +A personal interest in the locking up</p> +<p class='cg'> +At bedtime; but the strangeness soon wears off.”</p> +<p class='cg'> +He fetched a dingy lantern from behind</p> +<p class='cg'> +A door. “There’s that we didn’t lose! And these!”––</p> +<p class='cg'> +Some matches he unpocketed. “For food––</p> +<p class='cg'> +The meals we’ve had no one can take from us.</p> +<p class='cg'> +I wish that everything on earth were just</p> +<p class='cg'> +As certain as the meals we’ve had. I wish</p> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21' name='page_21'></a>21</span> +<p class='cg'> +The meals we haven’t had were, anyway.</p> +<p class='cg'> +What have you you know where to lay your hands on?”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“The bread we bought in passing at the store.</p> +<p class='cg'> +There’s butter somewhere, too.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_right'>“Let’s rend the bread.</p> +<p class='cg'> +I’ll light the fire for company for you;</p> +<p class='cg'> +You’ll not have any other company</p> +<p class='cg'> +Till Ed begins to get out on a Sunday</p> +<p class='cg'> +To look us over and give us his idea</p> +<p class='cg'> +Of what wants pruning, shingling, breaking up.</p> +<p class='cg'> +He’ll know what he would do if he were we,</p> +<p class='cg'> +And all at once. He’ll plan for us and plan</p> +<p class='cg'> +To help us, but he’ll take it out in planning.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Well, you can set the table with the loaf.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Let’s see you find your loaf. I’ll light the fire.</p> +<p class='cg'> +I like chairs occupying other chairs</p> +<p class='cg'> +Not offering a lady––”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_right'>“There again, Joe!</p> +<p class='cg'> +<i>You’re tired.</i>”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_right'>“I’m drunk-nonsensical tired out;</p> +<p class='cg'> +Don’t mind a word I say. It’s a day’s work</p> +<p class='cg'> +To empty one house of all household goods</p> +<p class='cg'> +And fill another with ’em fifteen miles away,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Although you do no more than dump them down.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“Dumped down in paradise we are and happy.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“It’s all so much what I have always wanted,</p> +<p class='cg'> +I can’t believe it’s what you wanted, too.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“Shouldn’t you like to know?”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22' name='page_22'></a>22</span> +<p class='cg_right'>“I’d like to know</p> +<p class='cg'> +If it is what you wanted, then how much</p> +<p class='cg'> +You wanted it for me.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_right'>“A troubled conscience!</p> +<p class='cg'> +You don’t want me to tell if <i>I</i> don’t know.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“I don’t want to find out what can’t be known.</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +But who first said the word to come?”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_right'>“My dear,</p> +<p class='cg'> +It’s who first thought the thought. You’re searching, Joe,</p> +<p class='cg'> +For things that don’t exist; I mean beginnings.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Ends and beginnings––there are no such things.</p> +<p class='cg'> +There are only middles.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +<span style='margin-left: 10.15625em;'>“What is this?”</span></p> +<p class='cg_right'>“This life?</p> +<p class='cg'> +Our sitting here by lantern-light together</p> +<p class='cg'> +Amid the wreckage of a former home?</p> +<p class='cg'> +You won’t deny the lantern isn’t new.</p> +<p class='cg'> +The stove is not, and you are not to me,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Nor I to you.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_right'>“Perhaps you never were?”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“It would take me forever to recite</p> +<p class='cg'> +All that’s not new in where we find ourselves.</p> +<p class='cg'> +New is a word for fools in towns who think</p> +<p class='cg'> +Style upon style in dress and thought at last</p> +<p class='cg'> +Must get somewhere. I’ve heard you say as much.</p> +<p class='cg'> +No, this is no beginning.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_right'>“Then an end?”</p> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23' name='page_23'></a>23</span> +<p class='cg'> +“End is a gloomy word.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_right'>“Is it too late</p> +<p class='cg'> +To drag you out for just a good-night call</p> +<p class='cg'> +On the old peach trees on the knoll to grope</p> +<p class='cg'> +By starlight in the grass for a last peach</p> +<p class='cg'> +The neighbors may not have taken as their right</p> +<p class='cg'> +When the house wasn’t lived in? I’ve been looking:</p> +<p class='cg'> +I doubt if they have left us many grapes.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Before we set ourselves to right the house,</p> +<p class='cg'> +The first thing in the morning, out we go</p> +<p class='cg'> +To go the round of apple, cherry, peach,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Pine, alder, pasture, mowing, well, and brook.</p> +<p class='cg'> +All of a farm it is.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_right'>“I know this much:</p> +<p class='cg'> +I’m going to put you in your bed, if first</p> +<p class='cg'> +I have to make you build it. Come, the light.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +When there was no more lantern in the kitchen,</p> +<p class='cg'> +The fire got out through crannies in the stove</p> +<p class='cg'> +And danced in yellow wrigglers on the ceiling,</p> +<p class='cg'> +As much at home as if they’d always danced there.</p> +</td></tr></table> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24' name='page_24'></a>24</span> +<a name='THE_TELEPHONE' id='THE_TELEPHONE'></a> +<h2>THE TELEPHONE</h2> +</div> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'> +<span class="dcap">“When</span> I was just as far as I could walk</p> +<p class='cg'> +From here to-day,</p> +<p class='cg'> +There was an hour</p> +<p class='cg'> +All still</p> +<p class='cg'> +When leaning with my head against a flower</p> +<p class='cg'> +I heard you talk.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Don’t say I didn’t, for I heard you say––</p> +<p class='cg'> +You spoke from that flower on the window sill––</p> +<p class='cg'> +Do you remember what it was you said?”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“First tell me what it was you thought you heard.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“Having found the flower and driven a bee away,</p> +<p class='cg'> +I leaned my head,</p> +<p class='cg'> +And holding by the stalk,</p> +<p class='cg'> +I listened and I thought I caught the word––</p> +<p class='cg'> +What was it? Did you call me by my name?</p> +<p class='cg'> +Or did you say––</p> +<p class='cg'> +<i>Someone</i> said ‘Come’––I heard it as I bowed.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“I may have thought as much, but not aloud.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“Well, so I came.”</p> +</td></tr></table> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25' name='page_25'></a>25</span> +<a name='MEETING_AND_PASSING' id='MEETING_AND_PASSING'></a> +<h2>MEETING AND PASSING</h2> +</div> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'> +<span class="dcap">As I</span> went down the hill along the wall</p> +<p class='cg'> +There was a gate I had leaned at for the view</p> +<p class='cg'> +And had just turned from when I first saw you</p> +<p class='cg'> +As you came up the hill. We met. But all</p> +<p class='cg'> +We did that day was mingle great and small</p> +<p class='cg'> +Footprints in summer dust as if we drew</p> +<p class='cg'> +The figure of our being less than two</p> +<p class='cg'> +But more than one as yet. Your parasol</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +Pointed the decimal off with one deep thrust.</p> +<p class='cg'> +And all the time we talked you seemed to see</p> +<p class='cg'> +Something down there to smile at in the dust.</p> +<p class='cg'> +(Oh, it was without prejudice to me!)</p> +<p class='cg'> +Afterward I went past what you had passed</p> +<p class='cg'> +Before we met and you what I had passed.</p> +</td></tr></table> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26' name='page_26'></a>26</span> +<a name='HYLA_BROOK' id='HYLA_BROOK'></a> +<h2>HYLA BROOK</h2> +</div> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'> +<span class="dcap">By</span> June our brook’s run out of song and speed.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Sought for much after that, it will be found</p> +<p class='cg'> +Either to have gone groping underground</p> +<p class='cg'> +(And taken with it all the Hyla breed</p> +<p class='cg'> +That shouted in the mist a month ago,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Like ghost of sleigh-bells in a ghost of snow)––</p> +<p class='cg'> +Or flourished and come up in jewel-weed,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Weak foliage that is blown upon and bent</p> +<p class='cg'> +Even against the way its waters went.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Its bed is left a faded paper sheet</p> +<p class='cg'> +Of dead leaves stuck together by the heat––</p> +<p class='cg'> +A brook to none but who remember long.</p> +<p class='cg'> +This as it will be seen is other far</p> +<p class='cg'> +Than with brooks taken otherwhere in song.</p> +<p class='cg'> +We love the things we love for what they are.</p> +</td></tr></table> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27' name='page_27'></a>27</span> +<a name='THE_OVEN_BIRD' id='THE_OVEN_BIRD'></a> +<h2>THE OVEN BIRD</h2> +</div> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'> +<span class="dcap">There</span> is a singer everyone has heard,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Loud, a mid-summer and a mid-wood bird,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Who makes the solid tree trunks sound again.</p> +<p class='cg'> +He says that leaves are old and that for flowers</p> +<p class='cg'> +Mid-summer is to spring as one to ten.</p> +<p class='cg'> +He says the early petal-fall is past</p> +<p class='cg'> +When pear and cherry bloom went down in showers</p> +<p class='cg'> +On sunny days a moment overcast;</p> +<p class='cg'> +And comes that other fall we name the fall.</p> +<p class='cg'> +He says the highway dust is over all.</p> +<p class='cg'> +The bird would cease and be as other birds</p> +<p class='cg'> +But that he knows in singing not to sing.</p> +<p class='cg'> +The question that he frames in all but words</p> +<p class='cg'> +Is what to make of a diminished thing.</p> +</td></tr></table> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28' name='page_28'></a>28</span> +<a name='BOND_AND_FREE' id='BOND_AND_FREE'></a> +<h2>BOND AND FREE</h2> +</div> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'> +<span class="dcap">Love</span> has earth to which she clings</p> +<p class='cg'> +With hills and circling arms about––</p> +<p class='cg'> +Wall within wall to shut fear out.</p> +<p class='cg'> +But Thought has need of no such things,</p> +<p class='cg'> +For Thought has a pair of dauntless wings.</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +On snow and sand and turf, I see</p> +<p class='cg'> +Where Love has left a printed trace</p> +<p class='cg'> +With straining in the world’s embrace.</p> +<p class='cg'> +And such is Love and glad to be.</p> +<p class='cg'> +But Thought has shaken his ankles free.</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +Thought cleaves the interstellar gloom</p> +<p class='cg'> +And sits in Sirius’ disc all night,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Till day makes him retrace his flight,</p> +<p class='cg'> +With smell of burning on every plume,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Back past the sun to an earthly room.</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +His gains in heaven are what they are.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Yet some say Love by being thrall</p> +<p class='cg'> +And simply staying possesses all</p> +<p class='cg'> +In several beauty that Thought fares far</p> +<p class='cg'> +To find fused in another star.</p> +</td></tr></table> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29' name='page_29'></a>29</span> +<a name='BIRCHES' id='BIRCHES'></a> +<h2>BIRCHES</h2> +</div> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'> +<span class="dcap">When</span> I see birches bend to left and right</p> +<p class='cg'> +Across the lines of straighter darker trees,</p> +<p class='cg'> +I like to think some boy’s been swinging them.</p> +<p class='cg'> +But swinging doesn’t bend them down to stay.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Ice-storms do that. Often you must have seen them</p> +<p class='cg'> +Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning</p> +<p class='cg'> +After a rain. They click upon themselves</p> +<p class='cg'> +As the breeze rises, and turn many-colored</p> +<p class='cg'> +As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Soon the sun’s warmth makes them shed crystal shells</p> +<p class='cg'> +Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust––</p> +<p class='cg'> +Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away</p> +<p class='cg'> +You’d think the inner dome of heaven had fallen.</p> +<p class='cg'> +They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load,</p> +<p class='cg'> +And they seem not to break; though once they are bowed</p> +<p class='cg'> +So low for long, they never right themselves:</p> +<p class='cg'> +You may see their trunks arching in the woods</p> +<p class='cg'> +Years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground</p> +<p class='cg'> +Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair</p> +<p class='cg'> +Before them over their heads to dry in the sun.</p> +<p class='cg'> +But I was going to say when Truth broke in</p> +<p class='cg'> +With all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm</p> +<p class='cg'> +(Now am I free to be poetical?)</p> +<p class='cg'> +I should prefer to have some boy bend them</p> +<p class='cg'> +As he went out and in to fetch the cows––</p> +<p class='cg'> +Some boy too far from town to learn baseball,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Whose only play was what he found himself,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Summer or winter, and could play alone.</p> +<p class='cg'> +One by one he subdued his father’s trees</p> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30' name='page_30'></a>30</span> +<p class='cg'> +By riding them down over and over again</p> +<p class='cg'> +Until he took the stiffness out of them,</p> +<p class='cg'> +And not one but hung limp, not one was left</p> +<p class='cg'> +For him to conquer. He learned all there was</p> +<p class='cg'> +To learn about not launching out too soon</p> +<p class='cg'> +And so not carrying the tree away</p> +<p class='cg'> +Clear to the ground. He always kept his poise</p> +<p class='cg'> +To the top branches, climbing carefully</p> +<p class='cg'> +With the same pains you use to fill a cup</p> +<p class='cg'> +Up to the brim, and even above the brim.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Kicking his way down through the air to the ground.</p> +<p class='cg'> +So was I once myself a swinger of birches.</p> +<p class='cg'> +And so I dream of going back to be.</p> +<p class='cg'> +It’s when I’m weary of considerations,</p> +<p class='cg'> +And life is too much like a pathless wood</p> +<p class='cg'> +Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs</p> +<p class='cg'> +Broken across it, and one eye is weeping</p> +<p class='cg'> +From a twig’s having lashed across it open.</p> +<p class='cg'> +I’d like to get away from earth awhile</p> +<p class='cg'> +And then come back to it and begin over.</p> +<p class='cg'> +May no fate willfully misunderstand me</p> +<p class='cg'> +And half grant what I wish and snatch me away</p> +<p class='cg'> +Not to return. Earth’s the right place for love:</p> +<p class='cg'> +I don’t know where it’s likely to go better.</p> +<p class='cg'> +I’d like to go by climbing a birch tree,</p> +<p class='cg'> +And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk</p> +<p class='cg'> +<i>Toward</i> heaven, till the tree could bear no more,</p> +<p class='cg'> +But dipped its top and set me down again.</p> +<p class='cg'> +That would be good both going and coming back.</p> +<p class='cg'> +One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.</p> +</td></tr></table> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31' name='page_31'></a>31</span> +<a name='PEA_BRUSH' id='PEA_BRUSH'></a> +<h2>PEA BRUSH</h2> +</div> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'> +<span class="dcap">I walked</span> down alone Sunday after church</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>To the place where John has been cutting trees</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +To see for myself about the birch</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>He said I could have to bush my peas.</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +The sun in the new-cut narrow gap</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>Was hot enough for the first of May,</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +And stifling hot with the odor of sap</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>From stumps still bleeding their life away.</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +The frogs that were peeping a thousand shrill</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>Wherever the ground was low and wet,</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +The minute they heard my step went still</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>To watch me and see what I came to get.</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +Birch boughs enough piled everywhere!––</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>All fresh and sound from the recent axe.</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +Time someone came with cart and pair</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>And got them off the wild flower’s backs.</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +They might be good for garden things</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>To curl a little finger round,</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +The same as you seize cat’s-cradle strings,</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>And lift themselves up off the ground.</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +Small good to anything growing wild,</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>They were crooking many a trillium</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +That had budded before the boughs were piled</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>And since it was coming up had to come.</span></p> +</td></tr></table> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32' name='page_32'></a>32</span> +<a name='PUTTING_IN_THE_SEED' id='PUTTING_IN_THE_SEED'></a> +<h2>PUTTING IN THE SEED</h2> +</div> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'> +<span class="dcap">You</span> come to fetch me from my work to-night</p> +<p class='cg'> +When supper’s on the table, and we’ll see</p> +<p class='cg'> +If I can leave off burying the white</p> +<p class='cg'> +Soft petals fallen from the apple tree.</p> +<p class='cg'> +(Soft petals, yes, but not so barren quite,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Mingled with these, smooth bean and wrinkled pea;)</p> +<p class='cg'> +And go along with you ere you lose sight</p> +<p class='cg'> +Of what you came for and become like me,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Slave to a springtime passion for the earth.</p> +<p class='cg'> +How Love burns through the Putting in the Seed</p> +<p class='cg'> +On through the watching for that early birth</p> +<p class='cg'> +When, just as the soil tarnishes with weed,</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +The sturdy seedling with arched body comes</p> +<p class='cg'> +Shouldering its way and shedding the earth crumbs.</p> +</td></tr></table> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33' name='page_33'></a>33</span> +<a name='A_TIME_TO_TALK' id='A_TIME_TO_TALK'></a> +<h2>A TIME TO TALK</h2> +</div> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'> +<span class="dcap">When</span> a friend calls to me from the road</p> +<p class='cg'> +And slows his horse to a meaning walk,</p> +<p class='cg'> +I don’t stand still and look around</p> +<p class='cg'> +On all the hills I haven’t hoed,</p> +<p class='cg'> +And shout from where I am, What is it?</p> +<p class='cg'> +No, not as there is a time to talk.</p> +<p class='cg'> +I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Blade-end up and five feet tall,</p> +<p class='cg'> +And plod: I go up to the stone wall</p> +<p class='cg'> +For a friendly visit.</p> +</td></tr></table> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34' name='page_34'></a>34</span> +<a name='THE_COW_IN_APPLE_TIME' id='THE_COW_IN_APPLE_TIME'></a> +<h2>THE COW IN APPLE TIME</h2> +</div> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'> +<span class="dcap">Something</span> inspires the only cow of late</p> +<p class='cg'> +To make no more of a wall than an open gate,</p> +<p class='cg'> +And think no more of wall-builders than fools.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Her face is flecked with pomace and she drools</p> +<p class='cg'> +A cider syrup. Having tasted fruit,</p> +<p class='cg'> +She scorns a pasture withering to the root.</p> +<p class='cg'> +She runs from tree to tree where lie and sweeten</p> +<p class='cg'> +The windfalls spiked with stubble and worm-eaten.</p> +<p class='cg'> +She leaves them bitten when she has to fly.</p> +<p class='cg'> +She bellows on a knoll against the sky.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Her udder shrivels and the milk goes dry.</p> +</td></tr></table> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35' name='page_35'></a>35</span> +<a name='AN_ENCOUNTER' id='AN_ENCOUNTER'></a> +<h2>AN ENCOUNTER</h2> +</div> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'> +<span class="dcap">Once</span> on the kind of day called “weather breeder,”</p> +<p class='cg'> +When the heat slowly hazes and the sun</p> +<p class='cg'> +By its own power seems to be undone,</p> +<p class='cg'> +I was half boring through, half climbing through</p> +<p class='cg'> +A swamp of cedar. Choked with oil of cedar</p> +<p class='cg'> +And scurf of plants, and weary and over-heated,</p> +<p class='cg'> +And sorry I ever left the road I knew,</p> +<p class='cg'> +I paused and rested on a sort of hook</p> +<p class='cg'> +That had me by the coat as good as seated,</p> +<p class='cg'> +And since there was no other way to look,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Looked up toward heaven, and there against the blue,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Stood over me a resurrected tree,</p> +<p class='cg'> +A tree that had been down and raised again––</p> +<p class='cg'> +A barkless spectre. He had halted too,</p> +<p class='cg'> +As if for fear of treading upon me.</p> +<p class='cg'> +I saw the strange position of his hands––</p> +<p class='cg'> +Up at his shoulders, dragging yellow strands</p> +<p class='cg'> +Of wire with something in it from men to men.</p> +<p class='cg'> +“You here?” I said. “Where aren’t you nowadays</p> +<p class='cg'> +And what’s the news you carry––if you know?</p> +<p class='cg'> +And tell me where you’re off for––Montreal?</p> +<p class='cg'> +Me? I’m not off for anywhere at all.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Sometimes I wander out of beaten ways</p> +<p class='cg'> +Half looking for the orchid Calypso.”</p> +</td></tr></table> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36' name='page_36'></a>36</span> +<a name='RANGEFINDING' id='RANGEFINDING'></a> +<h2>RANGE-FINDING</h2> +</div> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'> +<span class="dcap">The</span> battle rent a cobweb diamond-strung</p> +<p class='cg'> +And cut a flower beside a ground bird’s nest</p> +<p class='cg'> +Before it stained a single human breast.</p> +<p class='cg'> +The stricken flower bent double and so hung.</p> +<p class='cg'> +And still the bird revisited her young.</p> +<p class='cg'> +A butterfly its fall had dispossessed</p> +<p class='cg'> +A moment sought in air his flower of rest,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Then lightly stooped to it and fluttering clung.</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +On the bare upland pasture there had spread</p> +<p class='cg'> +O’ernight ’twixt mullein stalks a wheel of thread</p> +<p class='cg'> +And straining cables wet with silver dew.</p> +<p class='cg'> +A sudden passing bullet shook it dry.</p> +<p class='cg'> +The indwelling spider ran to greet the fly,</p> +<p class='cg'> +But finding nothing, sullenly withdrew.</p> +</td></tr></table> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37' name='page_37'></a>37</span> +<a name='THE_HILL_WIFE' id='THE_HILL_WIFE'></a> +<h2>THE HILL WIFE</h2> +</div> +<h3>LONELINESS</h3> +<p class="center" >(<i>Her Word</i>)</p> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'> +<span class="dcap">One</span> ought not to have to care</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>So much as you and I</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +Care when the birds come round the house</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>To seem to say good-bye;</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +Or care so much when they come back</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>With whatever it is they sing;</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +The truth being we are as much</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>Too glad for the one thing</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +As we are too sad for the other here––</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>With birds that fill their breasts</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +But with each other and themselves</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>And their built or driven nests.</span></p> +</td></tr></table> +<h3>HOUSE FEAR</h3> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'> +<span class="dcap">Always</span>––I tell you this they learned––</p> +<p class='cg'> +Always at night when they returned</p> +<p class='cg'> +To the lonely house from far away</p> +<p class='cg'> +To lamps unlighted and fire gone gray,</p> +<p class='cg'> +They learned to rattle the lock and key</p> +<p class='cg'> +To give whatever might chance to be</p> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38' name='page_38'></a>38</span> +<p class='cg'> +Warning and time to be off in flight:</p> +<p class='cg'> +And preferring the out- to the in-door night,</p> +<p class='cg'> +They learned to leave the house-door wide</p> +<p class='cg'> +Until they had lit the lamp inside.</p> +</td></tr></table> +<h3>THE SMILE</h3> +<p class="center" >(<i>Her Word</i>)</p> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'> +<span class="dcap">I didn’t</span> like the way he went away.</p> +<p class='cg'> +That smile! It never came of being gay.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Still he smiled––did you see him?––I was sure!</p> +<p class='cg'> +Perhaps because we gave him only bread</p> +<p class='cg'> +And the wretch knew from that that we were poor.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Perhaps because he let us give instead</p> +<p class='cg'> +Of seizing from us as he might have seized.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Perhaps he mocked at us for being wed,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Or being very young (and he was pleased</p> +<p class='cg'> +To have a vision of us old and dead).</p> +<p class='cg'> +I wonder how far down the road he’s got.</p> +<p class='cg'> +He’s watching from the woods as like as not.</p> +</td></tr></table> +<h3>THE OFT-REPEATED DREAM</h3> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'> +<span class="dcap">She</span> had no saying dark enough</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>For the dark pine that kept</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +Forever trying the window-latch</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>Of the room where they slept.</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +The tireless but ineffectual hands</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>That with every futile pass</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +Made the great tree seem as a little bird</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>Before the mystery of glass!</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39' name='page_39'></a>39</span> +<p class='cg'> +It never had been inside the room,</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>And only one of the two</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +Was afraid in an oft-repeated dream</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>Of what the tree might do.</span></p> +</td></tr></table> +<h3>THE IMPULSE</h3> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'> +<span class="dcap">It was</span> too lonely for her there,</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>And too wild,</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +And since there were but two of them,</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>And no child,</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +And work was little in the house,</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>She was free,</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +And followed where he furrowed field,</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>Or felled tree.</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +She rested on a log and tossed</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>The fresh chips,</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +With a song only to herself</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>On her lips.</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +And once she went to break a bough</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>Of black alder.</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +She strayed so far she scarcely heard</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>When he called her––</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +And didn’t answer––didn’t speak––</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>Or return.</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +She stood, and then she ran and hid</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>In the fern.</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +He never found her, though he looked</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>Everywhere,</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +And he asked at her mother’s house</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>Was she there.</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40' name='page_40'></a>40</span> +<p class='cg'> +Sudden and swift and light as that</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>The ties gave,</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +And he learned of finalities</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>Besides the grave.</span></p> +</td></tr></table> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41' name='page_41'></a>41</span> +<a name='THE_BONFIRE' id='THE_BONFIRE'></a> +<h2>THE BONFIRE</h2> +</div> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'> +<span class="dcap">“Oh,</span> let’s go up the hill and scare ourselves,</p> +<p class='cg'> +As reckless as the best of them to-night,</p> +<p class='cg'> +By setting fire to all the brush we piled</p> +<p class='cg'> +With pitchy hands to wait for rain or snow.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Oh, let’s not wait for rain to make it safe.</p> +<p class='cg'> +The pile is ours: we dragged it bough on bough</p> +<p class='cg'> +Down dark converging paths between the pines.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Let’s not care what we do with it to-night.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Divide it? No! But burn it as one pile</p> +<p class='cg'> +The way we piled it. And let’s be the talk</p> +<p class='cg'> +Of people brought to windows by a light</p> +<p class='cg'> +Thrown from somewhere against their wall-paper.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Rouse them all, both the free and not so free</p> +<p class='cg'> +With saying what they’d like to do to us</p> +<p class='cg'> +For what they’d better wait till we have done.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Let’s all but bring to life this old volcano,</p> +<p class='cg'> +If that is what the mountain ever was––</p> +<p class='cg'> +And scare ourselves. Let wild fire loose we will....”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“And scare you too?” the children said together.</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“Why wouldn’t it scare me to have a fire</p> +<p class='cg'> +Begin in smudge with ropy smoke and know</p> +<p class='cg'> +That still, if I repent, I may recall it,</p> +<p class='cg'> +But in a moment not: a little spurt</p> +<p class='cg'> +Of burning fatness, and then nothing but</p> +<p class='cg'> +The fire itself can put it out, and that</p> +<p class='cg'> +By burning out, and before it burns out</p> +<p class='cg'> +It will have roared first and mixed sparks with stars,</p> +<p class='cg'> +And sweeping round it with a flaming sword,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Made the dim trees stand back in wider circle––</p> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42' name='page_42'></a>42</span> +<p class='cg'> +Done so much and I know not how much more</p> +<p class='cg'> +I mean it shall not do if I can bind it.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Well if it doesn’t with its draft bring on</p> +<p class='cg'> +A wind to blow in earnest from some quarter,</p> +<p class='cg'> +As once it did with me upon an April.</p> +<p class='cg'> +The breezes were so spent with winter blowing</p> +<p class='cg'> +They seemed to fail the bluebirds under them</p> +<p class='cg'> +Short of the perch their languid flight was toward;</p> +<p class='cg'> +And my flame made a pinnacle to heaven</p> +<p class='cg'> +As I walked once round it in possession.</p> +<p class='cg'> +But the wind out of doors––you know the saying.</p> +<p class='cg'> +There came a gust. You used to think the trees</p> +<p class='cg'> +Made wind by fanning since you never knew</p> +<p class='cg'> +It blow but that you saw the trees in motion.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Something or someone watching made that gust.</p> +<p class='cg'> +It put the flame tip-down and dabbed the grass</p> +<p class='cg'> +Of over-winter with the least tip-touch</p> +<p class='cg'> +Your tongue gives salt or sugar in your hand.</p> +<p class='cg'> +The place it reached to blackened instantly.</p> +<p class='cg'> +The black was all there was by day-light,</p> +<p class='cg'> +That and the merest curl of cigarette smoke––</p> +<p class='cg'> +And a flame slender as the hepaticas,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Blood-root, and violets so soon to be now.</p> +<p class='cg'> +But the black spread like black death on the ground,</p> +<p class='cg'> +And I think the sky darkened with a cloud</p> +<p class='cg'> +Like winter and evening coming on together.</p> +<p class='cg'> +There were enough things to be thought of then.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Where the field stretches toward the north</p> +<p class='cg'> +And setting sun to Hyla brook, I gave it</p> +<p class='cg'> +To flames without twice thinking, where it verges</p> +<p class='cg'> +Upon the road, to flames too, though in fear</p> +<p class='cg'> +They might find fuel there, in withered brake,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Grass its full length, old silver golden-rod,</p> +<p class='cg'> +And alder and grape vine entanglement,</p> +<p class='cg'> +To leap the dusty deadline. For my own</p> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43' name='page_43'></a>43</span> +<p class='cg'> +I took what front there was beside. I knelt</p> +<p class='cg'> +And thrust hands in and held my face away.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Fight such a fire by rubbing not by beating.</p> +<p class='cg'> +A board is the best weapon if you have it.</p> +<p class='cg'> +I had my coat. And oh, I knew, I knew,</p> +<p class='cg'> +And said out loud, I couldn’t bide the smother</p> +<p class='cg'> +And heat so close in; but the thought of all</p> +<p class='cg'> +The woods and town on fire by me, and all</p> +<p class='cg'> +The town turned out to fight for me––that held me.</p> +<p class='cg'> +I trusted the brook barrier, but feared</p> +<p class='cg'> +The road would fail; and on that side the fire</p> +<p class='cg'> +Died not without a noise of crackling wood––</p> +<p class='cg'> +Of something more than tinder-grass and weed––</p> +<p class='cg'> +That brought me to my feet to hold it back</p> +<p class='cg'> +By leaning back myself, as if the reins</p> +<p class='cg'> +Were round my neck and I was at the plough.</p> +<p class='cg'> +I won! But I’m sure no one ever spread</p> +<p class='cg'> +Another color over a tenth the space</p> +<p class='cg'> +That I spread coal-black over in the time</p> +<p class='cg'> +It took me. Neighbors coming home from town</p> +<p class='cg'> +Couldn’t believe that so much black had come there</p> +<p class='cg'> +While they had backs turned, that it hadn’t been there</p> +<p class='cg'> +When they had passed an hour or so before</p> +<p class='cg'> +Going the other way and they not seen it.</p> +<p class='cg'> +They looked about for someone to have done it.</p> +<p class='cg'> +But there was no one. I was somewhere wondering</p> +<p class='cg'> +Where all my weariness had gone and why</p> +<p class='cg'> +I walked so light on air in heavy shoes</p> +<p class='cg'> +In spite of a scorched Fourth-of-July feeling.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Why wouldn’t I be scared remembering that?”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“If it scares you, what will it do to us?”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“Scare you. But if you shrink from being scared,</p> +<p class='cg'> +What would you say to war if it should come?</p> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44' name='page_44'></a>44</span> +<p class='cg'> +That’s what for reasons I should like to know––</p> +<p class='cg'> +If you can comfort me by any answer.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“Oh, but war’s not for children––it’s for men.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“Now we are digging almost down to China.</p> +<p class='cg'> +My dears, my dears, you thought that––we all thought it.</p> +<p class='cg'> +So your mistake was ours. Haven’t you heard, though,</p> +<p class='cg'> +About the ships where war has found them out</p> +<p class='cg'> +At sea, about the towns where war has come</p> +<p class='cg'> +Through opening clouds at night with droning speed</p> +<p class='cg'> +Further o’erhead than all but stars and angels,––</p> +<p class='cg'> +And children in the ships and in the towns?</p> +<p class='cg'> +Haven’t you heard what we have lived to learn?</p> +<p class='cg'> +Nothing so new––something we had forgotten:</p> +<p class='cg'> +<i>War is for everyone, for children too</i>.</p> +<p class='cg'> +I wasn’t going to tell you and I mustn’t.</p> +<p class='cg'> +The best way is to come up hill with me</p> +<p class='cg'> +And have our fire and laugh and be afraid.”</p> +</td></tr></table> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45' name='page_45'></a>45</span> +<a name='A_GIRLS_GARDEN' id='A_GIRLS_GARDEN'></a> +<h2>A GIRL’S GARDEN</h2> +</div> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'> +<span class="dcap">A neighbor</span> of mine in the village</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>Likes to tell how one spring</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +When she was a girl on the farm, she did</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>A childlike thing.</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +One day she asked her father</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>To give her a garden plot</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +To plant and tend and reap herself,</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>And he said, “Why not?”</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +In casting about for a corner</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>He thought of an idle bit</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +Of walled-off ground where a shop had stood,</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>And he said, “Just it.”</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +And he said, “That ought to make you</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>An ideal one-girl farm,</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +And give you a chance to put some strength</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>On your slim-jim arm.”</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +It was not enough of a garden,</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>Her father said, to plough;</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +So she had to work it all by hand,</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>But she don’t mind now.</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46' name='page_46'></a>46</span> +<p class='cg'> +She wheeled the dung in the wheelbarrow</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>Along a stretch of road;</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +But she always ran away and left</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>Her not-nice load.</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +And hid from anyone passing.</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>And then she begged the seed.</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +She says she thinks she planted one</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>Of all things but weed.</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +A hill each of potatoes,</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>Radishes, lettuce, peas,</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +Tomatoes, beets, beans, pumpkins, corn,</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>And even fruit </span><a name='TC_4'></a><ins title="Added period">trees.</ins></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +And yes, she has long mistrusted</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>That a cider apple tree</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +In bearing there to-day is hers,</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>Or at least may be.</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +Her crop was a miscellany</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>When all was said and done,</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +A little bit of everything,</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>A great deal of none.</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +<i>Now</i> when she sees in the village</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>How village things go,</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +Just when it seems to come in right,</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>She says, “<i>I</i> know!</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47' name='page_47'></a>47</span> +<p class='cg'> +It’s as when I was a farmer–––”</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>Oh, never by way of advice!</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +And she never sins by telling the tale</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>To the same person twice.</span></p> +</td></tr></table> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48' name='page_48'></a>48</span> +<a name='THE_EXPOSED_NEST' id='THE_EXPOSED_NEST'></a> +<h2>THE EXPOSED NEST</h2> +</div> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'> +<span class="dcap">You</span> were forever finding some new play.</p> +<p class='cg'> +So when I saw you down on hands and knees</p> +<p class='cg'> +In the meadow, busy with the new-cut hay,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Trying, I thought, to set it up on end,</p> +<p class='cg'> +I went to show you how to make it stay,</p> +<p class='cg'> +If that was your idea, against the breeze,</p> +<p class='cg'> +And, if you asked me, even help pretend</p> +<p class='cg'> +To make it root again and grow afresh.</p> +<p class='cg'> +But ’twas no make-believe with you to-day,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Nor was the grass itself your real concern,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Though I found your hand full of wilted fern,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Steel-bright June-grass, and blackening heads of clover.</p> +<p class='cg'> +’Twas a nest full of young birds on the ground</p> +<p class='cg'> +The cutter-bar had just gone champing over</p> +<p class='cg'> +(Miraculously without tasting flesh)</p> +<p class='cg'> +And left defenseless to the heat and light.</p> +<p class='cg'> +You wanted to restore them to their right</p> +<p class='cg'> +Of something interposed between their sight</p> +<p class='cg'> +And too much world at once––could means be found.</p> +<p class='cg'> +The way the nest-full every time we stirred</p> +<p class='cg'> +Stood up to us as to a mother-bird</p> +<p class='cg'> +Whose coming home has been too long deferred,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Made me ask would the mother-bird return</p> +<p class='cg'> +And care for them in such a change of scene</p> +<p class='cg'> +And might our meddling make her more afraid.</p> +<p class='cg'> +That was a thing we could not wait to learn.</p> +<p class='cg'> +We saw the risk we took in doing good,</p> +<p class='cg'> +But dared not spare to do the best we could</p> +<p class='cg'> +Though harm should come of it; so built the screen</p> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49' name='page_49'></a>49</span> +<p class='cg'> +You had begun, and gave them back their shade.</p> +<p class='cg'> +All this to prove we cared. Why is there then</p> +<p class='cg'> +No more to tell? We turned to other things.</p> +<p class='cg'> +I haven’t any memory––have you?––</p> +<p class='cg'> +Of ever coming to the place again</p> +<p class='cg'> +To see if the birds lived the first night through,</p> +<p class='cg'> +And so at last to learn to use their wings.</p> +</td></tr></table> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50' name='page_50'></a>50</span> +<a name='OUT_OUT' id='OUT_OUT'></a> +<h2>“OUT, OUT––”</h2> +</div> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'> +<span class="dcap">The</span> buzz-saw snarled and rattled in the yard</p> +<p class='cg'> +And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Sweet-scented stuff when the breeze drew across it.</p> +<p class='cg'> +And from there those that lifted eyes could count</p> +<p class='cg'> +Five mountain ranges one behind the other</p> +<p class='cg'> +Under the sunset far into Vermont.</p> +<p class='cg'> +And the saw snarled and rattled, snarled and rattled,</p> +<p class='cg'> +As it ran light, or had to bear a load.</p> +<p class='cg'> +And nothing happened: day was all but done.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Call it a day, I wish they might have said</p> +<p class='cg'> +To please the boy by giving him the half hour</p> +<p class='cg'> +That a boy counts so much when saved from work.</p> +<p class='cg'> +His sister stood beside them in her apron</p> +<p class='cg'> +To tell them “Supper.” At the word, the saw,</p> +<p class='cg'> +As if to prove saws knew what supper meant,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Leaped out at the boy’s hand, or seemed to leap––</p> +<p class='cg'> +He must have given the hand. However it was,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Neither refused the meeting. But the hand!</p> +<p class='cg'> +The boy’s first outcry was a rueful laugh,</p> +<p class='cg'> +As he swung toward them holding up the hand</p> +<p class='cg'> +Half in appeal, but half as if to keep</p> +<p class='cg'> +The life from spilling. Then the boy saw all––</p> +<p class='cg'> +Since he was old enough to know, big boy</p> +<p class='cg'> +Doing a man’s work, though a child at heart––</p> +<p class='cg'> +He saw all spoiled. “Don’t let him cut my hand off––</p> +<p class='cg'> +The doctor, when he comes. Don’t let him, sister!”</p> +<p class='cg'> +So. But the hand was gone already.</p> +<p class='cg'> +The doctor put him in the dark of ether.</p> +<p class='cg'> +He lay and puffed his lips out with his breath.</p> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51' name='page_51'></a>51</span> +<p class='cg'> +And then––the watcher at his pulse took fright.</p> +<p class='cg'> +No one believed. They listened at his heart.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Little––less––nothing!––and that ended it.</p> +<p class='cg'> +No more to build on there. And they, since they</p> +<p class='cg'> +Were not the one dead, turned to their affairs.</p> +</td></tr></table> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52' name='page_52'></a>52</span> +<a name='BROWNS_DESCENT_OR__THE_WILLYNILLY_SLIDE' id='BROWNS_DESCENT_OR__THE_WILLYNILLY_SLIDE'></a> +<h2>BROWN’S DESCENT</h2> +<p><span class='smcap'>or</span><br />THE WILLY-NILLY SLIDE</p> +</div> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'> +<span class="dcap">Brown</span> lived at such a lofty farm</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>That everyone for miles could see</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +His lantern when he did his chores</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>In winter after half-past three.</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +And many must have seen him make</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>His wild descent from there one night,</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +’Cross lots, ’cross walls, ’cross everything,</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>Describing rings of lantern light.</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +Between the house and barn the gale</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>Got him by something he had on</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +And blew him out on the icy crust</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>That cased the world, and he was gone!</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +Walls were all buried, trees were few:</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>He saw no stay unless he stove</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +A hole in somewhere with his heel.</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>But though repeatedly he strove</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +And stamped and said things to himself,</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>And sometimes something seemed to yield,</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +He gained no foothold, but pursued</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>His journey down from field to field.</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53' name='page_53'></a>53</span> +<p class='cg'> +Sometimes he came with arms outspread</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>Like wings, revolving in the scene</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +Upon his longer axis, and</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>With no small dignity of mien.</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +Faster or slower as he chanced,</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>Sitting or standing as he chose,</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +According as he feared to risk</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>His neck, or thought to spare his clothes,</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +He never let the lantern drop.</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>And some exclaimed who saw afar</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +The figures he described with it,</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>“I wonder what those signals are</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +Brown makes at such an hour of night!</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>He’s celebrating something strange.</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +I wonder if he’s sold his farm,</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>Or been made Master of the Grange.”</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +He reeled, he lurched, he bobbed, he checked;</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>He fell and made the lantern rattle</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +(But saved the light from going out.)</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>So half-way down he fought the battle</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +Incredulous of his own bad luck.</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>And then becoming reconciled</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +To everything, he gave it up</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>And came down like a coasting child.</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54' name='page_54'></a>54</span> +<p class='cg'> +“Well––I––be––” that was all he said,</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>As standing in the river road,</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +He looked back up the slippery slope</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>(Two miles it was) to his abode.</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +Sometimes as an authority</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>On motor-cars, I’m asked if I</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +Should say our stock was petered out,</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>And this is my sincere reply:</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +Yankees are what they always were.</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>Don’t think Brown ever gave up hope</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +Of getting home again because</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>He couldn’t climb that slippery slope;</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +Or even thought of standing there</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>Until the January thaw</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +Should take the polish off the crust.</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>He bowed with grace to natural law,</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +And then went round it on his feet,</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>After the manner of our stock;</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +Not much concerned for those to whom,</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>At that particular time o’clock,</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +It must have looked as if the course</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>He steered was really straight away</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +From that which he was headed for––</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>Not much concerned for them, I say;</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55' name='page_55'></a>55</span> +<p class='cg'> +No more so than became a man––</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'><i>And</i> politician at odd seasons.</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +I’ve kept Brown standing in the cold</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>While I invested him with reasons;</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +But now he snapped his eyes three times;</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>Then shook his lantern, saying, “Ile’s</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +’Bout out!” and took the long way home</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in2'>By road, a matter of several miles.</span></p> +</td></tr></table> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56' name='page_56'></a>56</span> +<a name='THE_GUMGATHERER' id='THE_GUMGATHERER'></a> +<h2>THE GUM-GATHERER</h2> +</div> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'> +<span class="dcap">There</span> overtook me and drew me in</p> +<p class='cg'> +To his down-hill, early-morning stride,</p> +<p class='cg'> +And set me five miles on my road</p> +<p class='cg'> +Better than if he had had me ride,</p> +<p class='cg'> +A man with a swinging bag for load</p> +<p class='cg'> +And half the bag wound round his hand.</p> +<p class='cg'> +We talked like barking above the din</p> +<p class='cg'> +Of water we walked along beside.</p> +<p class='cg'> +And for my telling him where I’d been</p> +<p class='cg'> +And where I lived in mountain land</p> +<p class='cg'> +To be coming home the way I was,</p> +<p class='cg'> +He told me a little about himself.</p> +<p class='cg'> +He came from higher up in the pass</p> +<p class='cg'> +Where the grist of the new-beginning brooks</p> +<p class='cg'> +Is blocks split off the mountain mass––</p> +<p class='cg'> +And hopeless grist enough it looks</p> +<p class='cg'> +Ever to grind to soil for grass.</p> +<p class='cg'> +(The way it is will do for moss.)</p> +<p class='cg'> +There he had built his stolen shack.</p> +<p class='cg'> +It had to be a stolen shack</p> +<p class='cg'> +Because of the fears of fire and loss</p> +<p class='cg'> +That trouble the sleep of lumber folk:</p> +<p class='cg'> +Visions of half the world burned black</p> +<p class='cg'> +And the sun shrunken yellow in smoke.</p> +<p class='cg'> +We know who when they come to town</p> +<p class='cg'> +Bring berries under the wagon seat,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Or a basket of eggs between their feet;</p> +<p class='cg'> +What this man brought in a cotton sack</p> +<p class='cg'> +Was gum, the gum of the mountain spruce.</p> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57' name='page_57'></a>57</span> +<p class='cg'> +He showed me lumps of the scented stuff</p> +<p class='cg'> +Like uncut jewels, dull and rough.</p> +<p class='cg'> +It comes to market golden brown;</p> +<p class='cg'> +But turns to pink between the teeth.</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +I told him this is a pleasant life</p> +<p class='cg'> +To set your breast to the bark of trees</p> +<p class='cg'> +That all your days are dim beneath,</p> +<p class='cg'> +And reaching up with a little knife,</p> +<p class='cg'> +To loose the resin and take it down</p> +<p class='cg'> +And bring it to market when you please.</p> +</td></tr></table> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58' name='page_58'></a>58</span> +<a name='THE_LINEGANG' id='THE_LINEGANG'></a> +<h2>THE LINE-GANG</h2> +</div> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'> +<span class="dcap">Here</span> come the line-gang pioneering by.</p> +<p class='cg'> +They throw a forest down less cut than broken.</p> +<p class='cg'> +They plant dead trees for living, and the dead</p> +<p class='cg'> +They string together with a living thread.</p> +<p class='cg'> +They string an instrument against the sky</p> +<p class='cg'> +Wherein words whether beaten out or spoken</p> +<p class='cg'> +Will run as hushed as when they were a thought.</p> +<p class='cg'> +But in no hush they string it: they go past</p> +<p class='cg'> +With shouts afar to pull the cable taut,</p> +<p class='cg'> +To hold it hard until they make it fast,</p> +<p class='cg'> +To ease away––they have it. With a laugh,</p> +<p class='cg'> +An oath of towns that set the wild at naught</p> +<p class='cg'> +They bring the telephone and telegraph.</p> +</td></tr></table> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59' name='page_59'></a>59</span> +<a name='THE_VANISHING_RED' id='THE_VANISHING_RED'></a> +<h2>THE VANISHING RED</h2> +</div> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'> +<span class="dcap">He</span> is said to have been the last Red Man</p> +<p class='cg'> +In Acton. And the Miller is said to have laughed––</p> +<p class='cg'> +If you like to call such a sound a laugh.</p> +<p class='cg'> +But he gave no one else a laugher’s license.</p> +<p class='cg'> +For he turned suddenly grave as if to say,</p> +<p class='cg'> +“Whose business,––if I take it on myself,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Whose business––but why talk round the barn?––</p> +<p class='cg'> +When it’s just that I hold with getting a thing done with.”</p> +<p class='cg'> +You can’t get back and see it as he saw it.</p> +<p class='cg'> +It’s too long a story to go into now.</p> +<p class='cg'> +You’d have to have been there and lived it.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Then you wouldn’t have looked on it as just a matter</p> +<p class='cg'> +Of who began it between the two races.</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +Some guttural exclamation of surprise</p> +<p class='cg'> +The Red Man gave in poking about the mill</p> +<p class='cg'> +Over the great big thumping shuffling mill-stone</p> +<p class='cg'> +Disgusted the Miller physically as coming</p> +<p class='cg'> +From one who had no right to be heard from.</p> +<p class='cg'> +“Come, John,” he said, “you want to see the wheel pit?”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +He took him down below a cramping rafter,</p> +<p class='cg'> +And showed him, through a manhole in the floor,</p> +<p class='cg'> +The water in desperate straits like frantic fish,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Salmon and sturgeon, lashing with their tails.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Then he shut down the trap door with a ring in it</p> +<p class='cg'> +That jangled even above the general noise,</p> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60' name='page_60'></a>60</span> +<p class='cg'> +And came up stairs alone––and gave that laugh,</p> +<p class='cg'> +And said something to a man with a meal-sack</p> +<p class='cg'> +That the man with the meal-sack didn’t catch––then.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Oh, yes, he showed John the wheel pit all right.</p> +</td></tr></table> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61' name='page_61'></a>61</span> +<a name='SNOW' id='SNOW'></a> +<h2>SNOW</h2> +</div> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'> +<span class="dcap">The</span> three stood listening to a fresh access</p> +<p class='cg'> +Of wind that caught against the house a moment,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Gulped snow, and then blew free again––the Coles</p> +<p class='cg'> +Dressed, but dishevelled from some hours of sleep,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Meserve belittled in the great skin coat he wore.</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +Meserve was first to speak. He pointed backward</p> +<p class='cg'> +Over his shoulder with his pipe-stem, saying,</p> +<p class='cg'> +“You can just see it glancing off the roof</p> +<p class='cg'> +Making a great scroll upward toward the sky,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Long enough for recording all our names on.––</p> +<p class='cg'> +I think I’ll just call up my wife and tell her</p> +<p class='cg'> +I’m here––so far––and starting on again.</p> +<p class='cg'> +I’ll call her softly so that if she’s wise</p> +<p class='cg'> +And gone to sleep, she needn’t wake to answer.”</p> +<p class='cg'> +Three times he barely stirred the bell, then listened.</p> +<p class='cg'> +“Why, Lett, still up? Lett, I’m at Cole’s. I’m late.</p> +<p class='cg'> +I called you up to say Good-night from here</p> +<p class='cg'> +Before I went to say Good-morning there.––</p> +<p class='cg'> +I thought I would.––I know, but, Lett––I know––</p> +<p class='cg'> +I could, but what’s the sense? The rest won’t be</p> +<p class='cg'> +So bad.––Give me an hour for it.––Ho, ho,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Three hours to here! But that was all up hill;</p> +<p class='cg'> +The rest is down.––Why no, no, not a wallow:</p> +<p class='cg'> +They kept their heads and took their time to it</p> +<p class='cg'> +Like darlings, both of them. They’re in the barn.––</p> +<p class='cg'> +My dear, I’m coming just the same. I didn’t</p> +<p class='cg'> +Call you to ask you to invite me home.––”</p> +<p class='cg'> +He lingered for some word she wouldn’t say,</p> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62' name='page_62'></a>62</span> +<p class='cg'> +Said it at last himself, “Good-night,” and then,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Getting no answer, closed the telephone.</p> +<p class='cg'> +The three stood in the lamplight round the table</p> +<p class='cg'> +With lowered eyes a moment till he said,</p> +<p class='cg'> +“I’ll just see how the horses are.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_right'>“Yes, do,”</p> +<p class='cg'> +Both the Coles said together. Mrs. Cole</p> +<p class='cg'> +Added: “You can judge better after seeing.––</p> +<p class='cg'> +I want you here with me, Fred. Leave him here,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Brother Meserve. You know to find your way</p> +<p class='cg'> +Out through the shed.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_right'>“I guess I know my way,</p> +<p class='cg'> +I guess I know where I can find my name</p> +<p class='cg'> +Carved in the shed to tell me who I am</p> +<p class='cg'> +If it don’t tell me where I am. I used</p> +<p class='cg'> +To play––”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_right'>“You tend your horses and come back.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Fred Cole, you’re going to let him!”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_right'>“Well, aren’t you?</p> +<p class='cg'> +How can you help yourself?”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_right'>“I called him Brother.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Why did I call him that?”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_right'>“It’s right enough.</p> +<p class='cg'> +That’s all you ever heard him called round here.</p> +<p class='cg'> +He seems to have lost off his Christian name.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“Christian enough I should call that myself.</p> +<p class='cg'> +He took no notice, did he? Well, at least</p> +<p class='cg'> +I didn’t use it out of love of him,</p> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63' name='page_63'></a>63</span> +<p class='cg'> +The dear knows. I detest the thought of him</p> +<p class='cg'> +With his ten children under ten years old.</p> +<p class='cg'> +I hate his wretched little Racker Sect,</p> +<p class='cg'> +All’s ever I heard of it, which isn’t much.</p> +<p class='cg'> +But that’s not saying––Look, Fred Cole, it’s twelve,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Isn’t it, now? He’s been here half an hour.</p> +<p class='cg'> +He says he left the village store at nine.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Three hours to do four miles––a mile an hour</p> +<p class='cg'> +Or not much better. Why, it doesn’t seem</p> +<p class='cg'> +As if a man could move that slow and move.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Try to think what he did with all that time.</p> +<p class='cg'> +And three miles more to <a name='TC_2'></a><ins title="Added stanza break">go!”</ins></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_right'>“Don’t let him go.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Stick to him, Helen. Make him answer you.</p> +<p class='cg'> +That sort of man talks straight on all his life</p> +<p class='cg'> +From the last thing he said himself, stone deaf</p> +<p class='cg'> +To anything anyone else may say.</p> +<p class='cg'> +I should have thought, though, you could make him hear you.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“What is he doing out a night like this?</p> +<p class='cg'> +Why can’t he stay at home?”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_right'>“He had to preach.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“It’s no night to be out.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_right'>“He may be small,</p> +<p class='cg'> +He may be good, but one thing’s sure, he’s tough.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“And strong of stale tobacco.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_right'>“He’ll pull <a name='TC_5'></a><ins title="Single quote changed to double">through.”</ins></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64' name='page_64'></a>64</span> +<p class='cg'> +“You only say so. Not another house</p> +<p class='cg'> +Or shelter to put into from this place</p> +<p class='cg'> +To theirs. I’m going to call his wife again.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“Wait and he may. Let’s see what he will do.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Let’s see if he will think of her again.</p> +<p class='cg'> +But then I doubt he’s thinking of himself</p> +<p class='cg'> +He doesn’t look on it as anything.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“He shan’t go––there!”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_right'>“It <i>is</i> a night, my dear.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“One thing: he didn’t drag God into it.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“He don’t consider it a case for God.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“You think so, do you? You don’t know the kind.</p> +<p class='cg'> +He’s getting up a miracle this minute.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Privately––to himself, right now, he’s thinking</p> +<p class='cg'> +He’ll make a case of it if he succeeds,</p> +<p class='cg'> +But keep still if he fails.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_right'>“Keep still all over.</p> +<p class='cg'> +He’ll be dead––dead and buried.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_right'>“Such a trouble!</p> +<p class='cg'> +Not but I’ve every reason not to care</p> +<p class='cg'> +What happens to him if it only takes</p> +<p class='cg'> +Some of the sanctimonious conceit</p> +<p class='cg'> +Out of one of those pious scalawags.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“Nonsense to that! You want to see him safe.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“You like the runt.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_right'>“Don’t you a little?”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65' name='page_65'></a>65</span> +<p class='cg_right'>“Well,</p> +<p class='cg'> +I don’t like what he’s doing, which is what</p> +<p class='cg'> +You like, and like him for.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_right'>“Oh, yes you do.</p> +<p class='cg'> +You like your fun as well as anyone;</p> +<p class='cg'> +Only you women have to put these airs on</p> +<p class='cg'> +To impress men. You’ve got us so ashamed</p> +<p class='cg'> +Of being men we can’t look at a good fight</p> +<p class='cg'> +Between two boys and not feel bound to stop it.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Let the man freeze an ear or two, I say.––</p> +<p class='cg'> +He’s here. I leave him all to you. Go in</p> +<p class='cg'> +And save his life.––All right, come in, Meserve.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Sit down, sit down. How did you find the horses?”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“Fine, fine.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_right'>“And ready for some more? My wife here</p> +<p class='cg'> +Says it won’t do. You’ve got to give it up.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“Won’t you to please me? Please! If I say please?</p> +<p class='cg'> +Mr. Meserve, I’ll leave it to <i>your</i> wife.</p> +<p class='cg'> +What <i>did</i> your wife say on the telephone?”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +Meserve seemed to heed nothing but the lamp</p> +<p class='cg'> +Or something not far from it on the table.</p> +<p class='cg'> +By straightening out and lifting a forefinger,</p> +<p class='cg'> +He pointed with his hand from where it lay</p> +<p class='cg'> +Like a white crumpled spider on his knee:</p> +<p class='cg'> +“That leaf there in your open book! It moved</p> +<p class='cg'> +Just then, I thought. It’s stood erect like that,</p> +<p class='cg'> +There on the table, ever since I came,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Trying to turn itself backward or forward,</p> +<p class='cg'> +I’ve had my eye on it to make out which;</p> +<p class='cg'> +If forward, then it’s with a friend’s impatience––</p> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66' name='page_66'></a>66</span> +<p class='cg'> +You see I know––to get you on to things</p> +<p class='cg'> +It wants to see how you will take, if backward</p> +<p class='cg'> +It’s from regret for something you have passed</p> +<p class='cg'> +And failed to see the good of. Never mind,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Things must expect to come in front of us</p> +<p class='cg'> +A many times––I don’t say just how many––</p> +<p class='cg'> +That varies with the things––before we see them.</p> +<p class='cg'> +One of the lies would make it out that nothing</p> +<p class='cg'> +Ever presents itself before us twice.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Where would we be at last if that were so?</p> +<p class='cg'> +Our very life depends on everything’s</p> +<p class='cg'> +Recurring till we answer from within.</p> +<p class='cg'> +The thousandth time may prove the charm.––That leaf!</p> +<p class='cg'> +It can’t turn either way. It needs the wind’s help.</p> +<p class='cg'> +But the wind didn’t move it if it moved.</p> +<p class='cg'> +It moved itself. The wind’s at naught in here.</p> +<p class='cg'> +It couldn’t stir so sensitively poised</p> +<p class='cg'> +A thing as that. It couldn’t reach the lamp</p> +<p class='cg'> +To get a puff of black smoke from the flame,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Or blow a rumple in the collie’s coat.</p> +<p class='cg'> +You make a little foursquare block of air,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Quiet and light and warm, in spite of all</p> +<p class='cg'> +The illimitable dark and cold and storm,</p> +<p class='cg'> +And by so doing give these three, lamp, dog,</p> +<p class='cg'> +And book-leaf, that keep near you, their repose;</p> +<p class='cg'> +Though for all anyone can tell, repose</p> +<p class='cg'> +May be the thing you haven’t, yet you give it.</p> +<p class='cg'> +So false it is that what we haven’t we can’t give;</p> +<p class='cg'> +So false, that what we always say is true.</p> +<p class='cg'> +I’ll have to turn the leaf if no one else will.</p> +<p class='cg'> +It won’t lie down. Then let it stand. Who cares?”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“I shouldn’t want to hurry you, Meserve,</p> +<p class='cg'> +But if you’re going––Say you’ll stay, you know?</p> +<p class='cg'> +But let me raise this curtain on a scene,</p> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67' name='page_67'></a>67</span> +<p class='cg'> +And show you how it’s piling up against you.</p> +<p class='cg'> +You see the snow-white through the white of frost?</p> +<p class='cg'> +Ask Helen how far up the sash it’s climbed</p> +<p class='cg'> +Since last we read the gage.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_right'>“It looks as if</p> +<p class='cg'> +Some pallid thing had squashed its features flat</p> +<p class='cg'> +And its eyes shut with overeagerness</p> +<p class='cg'> +To see what people found so interesting</p> +<p class='cg'> +In one another, and had gone to sleep</p> +<p class='cg'> +Of its own stupid lack of understanding,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Or broken its white neck of mushroom stuff</p> +<p class='cg'> +Short off, and died against the window-pane.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“Brother Meserve, take care, you’ll scare yourself</p> +<p class='cg'> +More than you will us with such nightmare talk.</p> +<p class='cg'> +It’s you it matters to, because it’s you</p> +<p class='cg'> +Who have to go out into it alone.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“Let him talk, Helen, and perhaps he’ll stay.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“Before you drop the curtain––I’m reminded:</p> +<p class='cg'> +You recollect the boy who came out here</p> +<p class='cg'> +To breathe the air one winter––had a room</p> +<p class='cg'> +Down at the Averys’? Well, one sunny morning</p> +<p class='cg'> +After a downy storm, he passed our place</p> +<p class='cg'> +And found me banking up the house with snow.</p> +<p class='cg'> +And I was burrowing in deep for warmth,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Piling it well above the window-sills.</p> +<p class='cg'> +The snow against the window caught his eye.</p> +<p class='cg'> +‘Hey, that’s a pretty thought’––those were his words.</p> +<p class='cg'> +‘So you can think it’s six feet deep outside,</p> +<p class='cg'> +While you sit warm and read up balanced rations.</p> +<p class='cg'> +You can’t get too much winter in the winter.’</p> +<p class='cg'> +Those were his words. And he went home and all</p> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68' name='page_68'></a>68</span> +<p class='cg'> +But banked the daylight out of Avery’s windows.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Now you and I would go to no such length.</p> +<p class='cg'> +At the same time you can’t deny it makes</p> +<p class='cg'> +It not a mite worse, sitting here, we three,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Playing our fancy, to have the snowline run</p> +<p class='cg'> +So high across the pane outside. There where</p> +<p class='cg'> +There is a sort of tunnel in the frost</p> +<p class='cg'> +More like a tunnel than a hole––way down</p> +<p class='cg'> +At the far end of it you see a stir</p> +<p class='cg'> +And quiver like the frayed edge of the drift</p> +<p class='cg'> +Blown in the wind. I <i>like</i> that––I like <i>that</i>.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Well, now I leave you, people.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_right'>“Come, Meserve,</p> +<p class='cg'> +We thought you were deciding not to go––</p> +<p class='cg'> +The ways you found to say the praise of comfort</p> +<p class='cg'> +And being where you are. You want to stay.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“I’ll own it’s cold for such a fall of snow.</p> +<p class='cg'> +This house is frozen brittle, all except</p> +<p class='cg'> +This room you sit in. If you think the wind</p> +<p class='cg'> +Sounds further off, it’s not because it’s dying;</p> +<p class='cg'> +You’re further under in the snow––that’s all––</p> +<p class='cg'> +And feel it less. Hear the soft bombs of dust</p> +<p class='cg'> +It bursts against us at the chimney mouth,</p> +<p class='cg'> +And at the eaves. I like it from inside</p> +<p class='cg'> +More than I shall out in it. But the horses</p> +<p class='cg'> +Are rested and it’s time to say good-night,</p> +<p class='cg'> +And let you get to bed again. Good-night,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Sorry I had to break in on your sleep.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“Lucky for you you did. Lucky for you</p> +<p class='cg'> +You had us for a half-way station</p> +<p class='cg'> +To stop at. If you were the kind of man</p> +<p class='cg'> +Paid heed to women, you’d take my advice</p> +<p class='cg'> +And for your family’s sake stay where you are.</p> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69' name='page_69'></a>69</span> +<p class='cg'> +But what good is my saying it over and over?</p> +<p class='cg'> +You’ve done more than you had a right to think</p> +<p class='cg'> +You could do––<i>now</i>. You know the risk you take</p> +<p class='cg'> +In going on.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_right'>“Our snow-storms as a rule</p> +<p class='cg'> +Aren’t looked on as man-killers, and although</p> +<p class='cg'> +I’d rather be the beast that sleeps the sleep</p> +<p class='cg'> +Under it all, his door sealed up and lost,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Than the man fighting it to keep above it,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Yet think of the small birds at roost and not</p> +<p class='cg'> +In nests. Shall I be counted less than they are?</p> +<p class='cg'> +Their bulk in water would be frozen rock</p> +<p class='cg'> +In no time out to-night. And yet to-morrow</p> +<p class='cg'> +They will come budding boughs from tree to tree</p> +<p class='cg'> +Flirting their wings and saying Chickadee,</p> +<p class='cg'> +As if not knowing what you meant by the word storm.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“But why when no one wants you to go on?</p> +<p class='cg'> +Your wife––she doesn’t want you to. We don’t,</p> +<p class='cg'> +And you yourself don’t want to. Who else is there?”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“Save us from being cornered by a woman.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Well, there’s”––She told Fred afterward that in</p> +<p class='cg'> +The pause right there, she thought the dreaded word</p> +<p class='cg'> +Was coming, “God.” But no, he only said</p> +<p class='cg'> +“Well, there’s––the storm. That says I must go on.</p> +<p class='cg'> +That wants me as a war might if it came.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Ask any man.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_right'>He threw her that as something</p> +<p class='cg'> +To last her till he got outside the door.</p> +<p class='cg'> +He had Cole with him to the barn to see him off.</p> +<p class='cg'> +When Cole returned he found his wife still standing</p> +<p class='cg'> +Beside the table near the open book,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Not reading it.</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70' name='page_70'></a>70</span> +<p class='cg_right'>“Well, what kind of a man</p> +<p class='cg'> +Do you call that?” she said.</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_right'>“He had the gift</p> +<p class='cg'> +Of words, or is it tongues, I ought to say?”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“Was ever such a man for seeing likeness?”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“Or disregarding people’s civil questions––</p> +<p class='cg'> +What? We’ve found out in one hour more about him</p> +<p class='cg'> +Than we had seeing him pass by in the road</p> +<p class='cg'> +A thousand times. If that’s the way he preaches!</p> +<p class='cg'> +You didn’t think you’d keep him after all.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Oh, I’m not blaming you. He didn’t leave you</p> +<p class='cg'> +Much say in the matter, and I’m just as glad</p> +<p class='cg'> +We’re not in for a night of him. No sleep</p> +<p class='cg'> +If he had stayed. The least thing set him going.</p> +<p class='cg'> +It’s quiet as an empty church without him.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“But how much better off are we as it is?</p> +<p class='cg'> +We’ll have to sit here till we know he’s safe.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“Yes, I suppose you’ll want to, but I shouldn’t.</p> +<p class='cg'> +He knows what he can do, or he wouldn’t try.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Get into bed I say, and get some rest.</p> +<p class='cg'> +He won’t come back, and if he telephones,</p> +<p class='cg'> +It won’t be for an hour or two.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_right'>“Well then.</p> +<p class='cg'> +We can’t be any help by sitting here</p> +<p class='cg'> +And living his fight through with him, I suppose.”</p> +<hr class='mini' /> +<p class='cg'> +Cole had been telephoning in the dark.</p> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71' name='page_71'></a>71</span> +<p class='cg'> +Mrs. Cole’s voice came from an inner room:</p> +<p class='cg'> +“Did she call you or you call her?”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_right'>“She me.</p> +<p class='cg'> +You’d better dress: you won’t go back to bed.</p> +<p class='cg'> +We must have been asleep: it’s three and after.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“Had she been ringing long? I’ll get my wrapper.</p> +<p class='cg'> +I want to speak to her.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_right'>“All she said was,</p> +<p class='cg'> +He hadn’t come and had he really started.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“She knew he had, poor thing, two hours ago.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“He had the shovel. He’ll have made a fight.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“Why did I ever let him leave this house!”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“Don’t begin that. You did the best you could</p> +<p class='cg'> +To keep him––though perhaps you didn’t quite</p> +<p class='cg'> +Conceal a wish to see him show the spunk</p> +<p class='cg'> +To disobey you. Much his wife’ll thank you.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“Fred, after all I said! You shan’t make out</p> +<p class='cg'> +That it was any way but what it was.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Did she let on by any word she said</p> +<p class='cg'> +She didn’t thank me?”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_right'>“When I told her ‘Gone,’</p> +<p class='cg'> +‘Well then,’ she said, and ‘Well then’––like a threat.</p> +<p class='cg'> +And then her voice came scraping slow: ‘Oh, you,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Why did you let him go’?”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_right'>“Asked why we let him?</p> +<p class='cg'> +You let me there. I’ll ask her why she let him.</p> +<p class='cg'> +She didn’t dare to speak when he was here.</p> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72' name='page_72'></a>72</span> +<p class='cg'> +Their number’s––twenty-one? The thing won’t work.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Someone’s receiver’s down. The handle <a name='TC_6'></a><ins title="Removed extra stanza break">stumbles.</ins></p> +<p class='cg'> +The stubborn thing, the way it jars your arm!</p> +<p class='cg'> +It’s theirs. She’s dropped it from her hand and gone.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“Try speaking. Say ‘Hello’!”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_right'>“Hello. Hello.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“What do you hear?”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_right'>“I hear an empty room––</p> +<p class='cg'> +You know––it sounds that way. And yes, I hear––</p> +<p class='cg'> +I think I hear a clock––and windows rattling.</p> +<p class='cg'> +No step though. If she’s there she’s sitting down.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“Shout, she may hear you.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_right'>“Shouting is no good.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“Keep speaking then.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_right'>“Hello. Hello. Hello.</p> +<p class='cg'> +You don’t suppose––? She wouldn’t go out doors?”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“I’m half afraid that’s just what she might do.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“And leave the children?”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_right'>“Wait and call again.</p> +<p class='cg'> +You can’t hear whether she has left the door</p> +<p class='cg'> +Wide open and the wind’s blown out the lamp</p> +<p class='cg'> +And the fire’s died and the room’s dark and cold?”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73' name='page_73'></a>73</span> +<p class='cg'> +“One of two things, either she’s gone to bed</p> +<p class='cg'> +Or gone out doors.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_right'>“In which case both are lost.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Do you know what she’s like? Have you ever met her?</p> +<p class='cg'> +It’s strange she doesn’t want to speak to us.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +<span style='margin-left: 2.34375em;'>“Fred, see if you can hear what I hear. Come.”</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“A clock maybe.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_right'>“Don’t you hear something else?”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“Not talking.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_center'>“No.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_right'>“Why, yes, I hear––what is it?”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“What do you say it is?”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_center'>“A baby’s crying!</p> +<p class='cg'> +Frantic it sounds, though muffled and far off.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“Its mother wouldn’t let it cry like that,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Not if she’s there.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_right'>“What do you make of it?”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“There’s only one thing possible to make,</p> +<p class='cg'> +That is, assuming––that she has gone out.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Of course she hasn’t though.” They both sat down</p> +<p class='cg'> +Helpless. “There’s nothing we can do till morning.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“Fred, I shan’t let you think of going out.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74' name='page_74'></a>74</span> +<p class='cg'> +“Hold on.” The double bell began to chirp.</p> +<p class='cg'> +They started up. Fred took the telephone.</p> +<p class='cg'> +“Hello, Meserve. You’re there, then!––And your <a name='TC_7'></a><ins title="Removed extra stanza break">wife?</ins></p> +<p class='cg'> +Good! Why I asked––she didn’t seem to answer.</p> +<p class='cg'> +He says she went to let him in the barn.––</p> +<p class='cg'> +We’re glad. Oh, say no more about it, man.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Drop in and see us when you’re passing.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_right'>“Well,</p> +<p class='cg'> +She has him then, though what she wants him for</p> +<p class='cg'> +I <i>don’t</i> see.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg_right'>“Possibly not for herself.</p> +<p class='cg'> +Maybe she only wants him for the children.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“The whole to-do seems to have been for nothing.</p> +<p class='cg'> +What spoiled our night was to him just his fun.</p> +<p class='cg'> +What did he come in for?––To talk and visit?</p> +<p class='cg'> +Thought he’d just call to tell us it was snowing.</p> +<p class='cg'> +If he thinks he is going to make our house</p> +<p class='cg'> +A halfway coffee house ’twixt town and nowhere–––”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“I thought you’d feel you’d been too much concerned.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“You think you haven’t been concerned yourself.”</p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +“If you mean he was inconsiderate</p> +<p class='cg'> +To rout us out to think for him at midnight</p> +<p class='cg'> +And then take our advice no more than nothing,</p> +<p class='cg'> +Why, I agree with you. But let’s forgive him.</p> +<p class='cg'> +We’ve had a share in one night of his life.</p> +<p class='cg'> +What’ll you bet he ever calls again?”</p> +</td></tr></table> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75' name='page_75'></a>75</span> +<a name='THE_SOUND_OF_THE_TREES' id='THE_SOUND_OF_THE_TREES'></a> +<h2><i>THE SOUND OF THE TREES</i></h2> +</div> +<div class="italicized"> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'> +<i>I wonder about the trees.</i></p> +<p class='cg'> +Why do we wish to bear</p> +<p class='cg'> +Forever the noise of these</p> +<p class='cg'> +More than another noise</p> +<p class='cg'> +So close to our dwelling place?</p> +<p class='cg'> +We suffer them by the day</p> +<p class='cg'> +Till we lose all measure of pace,</p> +<p class='cg'> +And fixity in our joys,</p> +<p class='cg'> +And acquire a listening air.</p> +<p class='cg'> +They are that that talks of going</p> +<p class='cg'> +But never gets away;</p> +<p class='cg'> +And that talks no less for knowing,</p> +<p class='cg'> +As it grows wiser and older,</p> +<p class='cg'> +That now it means to stay.</p> +<p class='cg'> +My feet tug at the floor</p> +<p class='cg'> +And my head sways to my shoulder</p> +<p class='cg'> +Sometimes when I watch trees sway,</p> +<p class='cg'> +From the window or the door.</p> +<p class='cg'> +I shall set forth for somewhere,</p> +<p class='cg'> +I shall make the reckless choice</p> +<p class='cg'> +Some day when they are in voice</p> +<p class='cg'> +And tossing so as to scare</p> +<p class='cg'> +The white clouds over them on.</p> +<p class='cg'> +I shall have less to say,</p> +<p class='cg'> +<i>But I shall be gone.</i></p> +</td></tr></table> +</div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<p class="center muchlarger" ><b>SOME RECENT POETRY</b></p> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'> +<br /></p> +<p class='cg'> +Stephen Vincent Benét’s</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in4'>Heavens and Earth</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +Thomas Burke’s</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in4'>The Song Book of Quong Lee of Limehouse</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +Richard Burton’s</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in4'>Poems of Earth’s Meaning</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +Francis Carlin’s</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in4'>My Ireland</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in4'>The Cairn of Stars</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +Padraic Colum’s</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in4'>Wild Earth and Other Poems</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +Grace Hazard Conkling’s</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in4'>Wilderness Songs</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +Walter De La Mare’s</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in4'>The Listeners and Other Poems</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in4'>Peacock Pie. Ill’d by W. H. Robinson</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in4'>Motley and Other Poems</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in4'>Collected Poems 1901-1918. 2 Vols.</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +Robert Frost’s</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in4'>North of Boston</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in4'>Mountain Interval. New Edition, with Portrait</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in4'>A Boy’s Will</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +Carl Sandburg’s</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in4'>Cornhuskers</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in4'>Chicago Poems</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +Lew Sarrett’s</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in4'>Many Many Moons</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +Louis Untermeyer’s</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in4'>These Times</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in4'>---- and Other Poets</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in4'>Poems of Heinrich Heine (Translated)</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in4'>The New Era in American Poetry</span></p> +<p class='cg'> </p> +<p class='cg'> +Margaret Widdemer’s</p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in4'>The Old Road to Paradise</span></p> +<p class='cg'> +<span class='in4'>Factories and Other Poems</span></p> +</td></tr></table> +<hr class='mini' /> +<div class="center"> +<p class="larger" ><b>THE HOME BOOK OF VERSE</b></p> +<p>American and English 1580-1918<br /> +Selected and arranged by Burton Egbert Stevenson<br /> +Third Edition Revised and Enlarged</p> +</div> +<p>Over 4,000 pages of the best verse in English, ranging all the +way from the classics to some of the best newspaper verse of +to-day. In several different editions.</p> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div class="center"> +<p>HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY<br /> +PUBLISHERS<br /> +NEW YORK</p> +<hr class='pb' /> +</div><div class="trnote"> +<p><b>Transcriber Notes</b></p> +<p>Typographical inconsistencies have been changed and are +<ins class="trchange" title="Was 'hgihligthed'">highlighted</ins> and +listed below.</p> +<p>Archaic and variable spelling and hyphenation is preserved.</p> +<p>Author’s punctuation style is preserved, except where noted.</p> +<p class="padtop" ><b>Transcriber Changes</b></p> +<p>The following changes were made to the original text:</p> +<p><a href='#TC_4'>Page 46</a>: Added period after <b>trees</b> (Tomatoes, beets, beans, pumpkins, corn, And even fruit <b>trees.</b>)</p> +<p><a href='#TC_2'>Page 63</a>: Added stanza break between go and Don’t (And three miles more to <b>go!”<br /> +“Don’t</b> let him go.)</p> +<p><a href='#TC_5'>Page 63</a>: Single quote changed to double after <b>through</b> (“He’ll pull <b>through.”</b>)</p> +<p><a href='#TC_6'>Page 72</a>: Removed extra stanza break after <b>stumbles</b> (The handle <b>stumbles. The</b> stubborn thing, the way it jars your arm!)</p> +<p><a href='#TC_7'>Page 74</a>: Removed extra stanza break after <b>wife</b> (“Hello, Meserve. You’re there, then!––And your <b>wife? Good!</b> Why I asked––she didn’t seem to answer.)</p> +</div> + +<!-- generated by ppg.rb version: ppg0627b --> +<!-- timestamp: Tue Jun 30 12:41:16 -0400 2009 --> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mountain Interval, by Robert Frost + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MOUNTAIN INTERVAL *** + +***** This file should be named 29345-h.htm or 29345-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/3/4/29345/ + +Produced by David Starner, Katherine Ward and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Mountain Interval + +Author: Robert Frost + +Release Date: July 7, 2009 [EBook #29345] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MOUNTAIN INTERVAL *** + + + + +Produced by David Starner, Katherine Ward and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + [Illustration: ROBERT FROST + From the original in plaster by AROLDO DU CHENE + _Copyright, Henry Holt and Company_] + + + + + MOUNTAIN INTERVAL + + + BY + ROBERT FROST + + + NEW YORK + HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY + + COPYRIGHT, 1916, 1921 + BY + HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY + + _May, 1931_ + + PRINTED IN THE U. S. A. BY + THE QUINN & BODEN COMPANY + RAHWAY, N. J. + + * * * * * + + + TO YOU + WHO LEAST NEED REMINDING + + that before this interval of the South Branch under black + mountains, there was another interval, the Upper at Plymouth, + where we walked in spring beyond the covered bridge; but that + the first interval of all was the old farm, our brook interval, + so called by the man we had it from in sale. + + + + +CONTENTS + + PAGE + THE ROAD NOT TAKEN 9 + CHRISTMAS TREES 11 + AN OLD MAN'S WINTER NIGHT 14 + A PATCH OF OLD SNOW 15 + IN THE HOME STRETCH 16 + THE TELEPHONE 24 + MEETING AND PASSING 25 + HYLA BROOK 26 + THE OVEN BIRD 27 + BOND AND FREE 28 + BIRCHES 29 + PEA BRUSH 31 + PUTTING IN THE SEED 32 + A TIME TO TALK 33 + THE COW IN APPLE TIME 34 + AN ENCOUNTER 35 + RANGE-FINDING 36 + THE HILL WIFE 37 + I LONELINESS--HER WORD 37 + II HOUSE FEAR 37 + III THE SMILE--HER WORD 38 + IV THE OFT-REPEATED DREAM 38 + V THE IMPULSE 39 + THE BONFIRE 41 + A GIRL'S GARDEN 45 + THE EXPOSED NEST 48 + "OUT, OUT--" 50 + BROWN'S DESCENT OR THE WILLY-NILLY SLIDE 52 + THE GUM-GATHERER 56 + THE LINE-GANG 58 + THE VANISHING RED 59 + SNOW 61 + THE SOUND OF THE TREES 75 + + + + +_THE ROAD NOT TAKEN_ + + + _Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, + And sorry I could not travel both + And be one traveler, long I stood + And looked down one as far as I could + To where it bent in the undergrowth;_ + + _Then took the other, as just as fair, + And having perhaps the better claim, + Because it was grassy and wanted wear; + Though as for that the passing there + Had worn them really about the same,_ + + _And both that morning equally lay + In leaves no step had trodden black. + Oh, I kept the first for another day! + Yet knowing how way leads on to way, + I doubted if I should ever come back._ + + _I shall be telling this with a sigh + Somewhere ages and ages hence: + Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-- + I took the one less traveled by, + And that has made all the difference._ + + + + +CHRISTMAS TREES + +(_A Christmas Circular Letter_) + + + The city had withdrawn into itself + And left at last the country to the country; + When between whirls of snow not come to lie + And whirls of foliage not yet laid, there drove + A stranger to our yard, who looked the city, + Yet did in country fashion in that there + He sat and waited till he drew us out + A-buttoning coats to ask him who he was. + He proved to be the city come again + To look for something it had left behind + And could not do without and keep its Christmas. + He asked if I would sell my Christmas trees; + My woods--the young fir balsams like a place + Where houses all are churches and have spires. + I hadn't thought of them as Christmas Trees. + I doubt if I was tempted for a moment + To sell them off their feet to go in cars + And leave the slope behind the house all bare, + Where the sun shines now no warmer than the moon. + I'd hate to have them know it if I was. + Yet more I'd hate to hold my trees except + As others hold theirs or refuse for them, + Beyond the time of profitable growth, + The trial by market everything must come to. + I dallied so much with the thought of selling. + Then whether from mistaken courtesy + And fear of seeming short of speech, or whether + From hope of hearing good of what was mine, + I said, "There aren't enough to be worth while." + "I could soon tell how many they would cut, + You let me look them over." + + "You could look. + But don't expect I'm going to let you have them." + Pasture they spring in, some in clumps too close + That lop each other of boughs, but not a few + Quite solitary and having equal boughs + All round and round. The latter he nodded "Yes" to, + Or paused to say beneath some lovelier one, + With a buyer's moderation, "That would do." + I thought so too, but wasn't there to say so. + We climbed the pasture on the south, crossed over, + And came down on the north. + + He said, "A thousand." + + "A thousand Christmas trees!--at what apiece?" + + He felt some need of softening that to me: + "A thousand trees would come to thirty dollars." + + Then I was certain I had never meant + To let him have them. Never show surprise! + But thirty dollars seemed so small beside + The extent of pasture I should strip, three cents + (For that was all they figured out apiece), + Three cents so small beside the dollar friends + I should be writing to within the hour + Would pay in cities for good trees like those, + Regular vestry-trees whole Sunday Schools + Could hang enough on to pick off enough. + A thousand Christmas trees I didn't know I had! + Worth three cents more to give away than sell, + As may be shown by a simple calculation. + Too bad I couldn't lay one in a letter. + I can't help wishing I could send you one, + In wishing you herewith a Merry Christmas. + + + + +AN OLD MAN'S WINTER NIGHT + + + All out of doors looked darkly in at him + Through the thin frost, almost in separate stars, + That gathers on the pane in empty rooms. + What kept his eyes from giving back the gaze + Was the lamp tilted near them in his hand. + What kept him from remembering what it was + That brought him to that creaking room was age. + He stood with barrels round him--at a loss. + And having scared the cellar under him + In clomping there, he scared it once again + In clomping off;--and scared the outer night, + Which has its sounds, familiar, like the roar + Of trees and crack of branches, common things, + But nothing so like beating on a box. + A light he was to no one but himself + Where now he sat, concerned with he knew what, + A quiet light, and then not even that. + He consigned to the moon, such as she was, + So late-arising, to the broken moon + As better than the sun in any case + For such a charge, his snow upon the roof, + His icicles along the wall to keep; + And slept. The log that shifted with a jolt + Once in the stove, disturbed him and he shifted, + And eased his heavy breathing, but still slept. + One aged man--one man--can't fill a house, + A farm, a countryside, or if he can, + It's thus he does it of a winter night. + + + + +A PATCH OF OLD SNOW + + + There's a patch of old snow in a corner + That I should have guessed + Was a blow-away paper the rain + Had brought to rest. + + It is speckled with grime as if + Small print overspread it, + The news of a day I've forgotten-- + If I ever read it. + + + + +IN THE HOME STRETCH + + + She stood against the kitchen sink, and looked + Over the sink out through a dusty window + At weeds the water from the sink made tall. + She wore her cape; her hat was in her hand. + Behind her was confusion in the room, + Of chairs turned upside down to sit like people + In other chairs, and something, come to look, + For every room a house has--parlor, bed-room, + And dining-room--thrown pell-mell in the kitchen. + And now and then a smudged, infernal face + Looked in a door behind her and addressed + Her back. She always answered without turning. + + "Where will I put this walnut bureau, lady?" + "Put it on top of something that's on top + Of something else," she laughed. "Oh, put it where + You can to-night, and go. It's almost dark; + You must be getting started back to town." + Another blackened face thrust in and looked + And smiled, and when she did not turn, spoke gently, + "What are you seeing out the window, _lady_?" + + "Never was I beladied so before. + Would evidence of having been called lady + More than so many times make me a lady + In common law, I wonder." + + "But I ask, + What are you seeing out the window, lady?" + + "What I'll be seeing more of in the years + To come as here I stand and go the round + Of many plates with towels many times." + + "And what is that? You only put me off." + + "Rank weeds that love the water from the dish-pan + More than some women like the dish-pan, Joe; + A little stretch of mowing-field for you; + Not much of that until I come to woods + That end all. And it's scarce enough to call + A view." + + "And yet you think you like it, dear?" + + "That's what you're so concerned to know! You hope + I like it. Bang goes something big away + Off there upstairs. The very tread of men + As great as those is shattering to the frame + Of such a little house. Once left alone, + You and I, dear, will go with softer steps + Up and down stairs and through the rooms, and none + But sudden winds that snatch them from our hands + Will ever slam the doors." + + "I think you see + More than you like to own to out that window." + + "No; for besides the things I tell you of, + I only see the years. They come and go + In alternation with the weeds, the field, + The wood." + + "What kind of years?" + "Why, latter years-- + Different from early years." + "I see them, too. + You didn't count them?" + "No, the further off + So ran together that I didn't try to. + It can scarce be that they would be in number + We'd care to know, for we are not young now. + And bang goes something else away off there. + It sounds as if it were the men went down, + And every crash meant one less to return + To lighted city streets we, too, have known, + But now are giving up for country darkness." + + "Come from that window where you see too much for me, + And take a livelier view of things from here. + They're going. Watch this husky swarming up + Over the wheel into the sky-high seat, + Lighting his pipe now, squinting down his nose + At the flame burning downward as he sucks it." + + "See how it makes his nose-side bright, a proof + How dark it's getting. Can you tell what time + It is by that? Or by the moon? The new moon! + What shoulder did I see her over? Neither. + A wire she is of silver, as new as we + To everything. Her light won't last us long. + It's something, though, to know we're going to have her + Night after night and stronger every night + To see us through our first two weeks. But, Joe, + The stove! Before they go! Knock on the window; + Ask them to help you get it on its feet. + We stand here dreaming. Hurry! Call them back!" + + "They're not gone yet." + + "We've got to have the stove, + Whatever else we want for. And a light. + Have we a piece of candle if the lamp + And oil are buried out of reach?" + Again + The house was full of tramping, and the dark, + Door-filling men burst in and seized the stove. + A cannon-mouth-like hole was in the wall, + To which they set it true by eye; and then + Came up the jointed stovepipe in their hands, + So much too light and airy for their strength + It almost seemed to come ballooning up, + Slipping from clumsy clutches toward the ceiling. + "A fit!" said one, and banged a stovepipe shoulder. + "It's good luck when you move in to begin + With good luck with your stovepipe. Never mind, + It's not so bad in the country, settled down, + When people're getting on in life. You'll like it." + Joe said: "You big boys ought to find a farm, + And make good farmers, and leave other fellows + The city work to do. There's not enough + For everybody as it is in there." + "God!" one said wildly, and, when no one spoke: + "Say that to Jimmy here. He needs a farm." + But Jimmy only made his jaw recede + Fool-like, and rolled his eyes as if to say + He saw himself a farmer. Then there was a French boy + Who said with seriousness that made them laugh, + "Ma friend, you ain't know what it is you're ask." + He doffed his cap and held it with both hands + Across his chest to make as 'twere a bow: + "We're giving you our chances on de farm." + And then they all turned to with deafening boots + And put each other bodily out of the house. + "Goodby to them! We puzzle them. They think-- + I don't know what they think we see in what + They leave us to: that pasture slope that seems + The back some farm presents us; and your woods + To northward from your window at the sink, + Waiting to steal a step on us whenever + We drop our eyes or turn to other things, + As in the game 'Ten-step' the children play." + + "Good boys they seemed, and let them love the city. + All they could say was 'God!' when you proposed + Their coming out and making useful farmers." + + "Did they make something lonesome go through you? + It would take more than them to sicken you-- + Us of our bargain. But they left us so + As to our fate, like fools past reasoning with. + They almost shook _me_." + + "It's all so much + What we have always wanted, I confess + It's seeming bad for a moment makes it seem + Even worse still, and so on down, down, down. + It's nothing; it's their leaving us at dusk. + I never bore it well when people went. + The first night after guests have gone, the house + Seems haunted or exposed. I always take + A personal interest in the locking up + At bedtime; but the strangeness soon wears off." + He fetched a dingy lantern from behind + A door. "There's that we didn't lose! And these!"-- + Some matches he unpocketed. "For food-- + The meals we've had no one can take from us. + I wish that everything on earth were just + As certain as the meals we've had. I wish + The meals we haven't had were, anyway. + What have you you know where to lay your hands on?" + + "The bread we bought in passing at the store. + There's butter somewhere, too." + + "Let's rend the bread. + I'll light the fire for company for you; + You'll not have any other company + Till Ed begins to get out on a Sunday + To look us over and give us his idea + Of what wants pruning, shingling, breaking up. + He'll know what he would do if he were we, + And all at once. He'll plan for us and plan + To help us, but he'll take it out in planning. + Well, you can set the table with the loaf. + Let's see you find your loaf. I'll light the fire. + I like chairs occupying other chairs + Not offering a lady--" + + "There again, Joe! + _You're tired._" + + "I'm drunk-nonsensical tired out; + Don't mind a word I say. It's a day's work + To empty one house of all household goods + And fill another with 'em fifteen miles away, + Although you do no more than dump them down." + + "Dumped down in paradise we are and happy." + + "It's all so much what I have always wanted, + I can't believe it's what you wanted, too." + + "Shouldn't you like to know?" + + "I'd like to know + If it is what you wanted, then how much + You wanted it for me." + + "A troubled conscience! + You don't want me to tell if _I_ don't know." + + "I don't want to find out what can't be known. + + But who first said the word to come?" + + "My dear, + It's who first thought the thought. You're searching, Joe, + For things that don't exist; I mean beginnings. + Ends and beginnings--there are no such things. + There are only middles." + + "What is this?" + "This life? + Our sitting here by lantern-light together + Amid the wreckage of a former home? + You won't deny the lantern isn't new. + The stove is not, and you are not to me, + Nor I to you." + + "Perhaps you never were?" + + "It would take me forever to recite + All that's not new in where we find ourselves. + New is a word for fools in towns who think + Style upon style in dress and thought at last + Must get somewhere. I've heard you say as much. + No, this is no beginning." + + "Then an end?" + "End is a gloomy word." + + "Is it too late + To drag you out for just a good-night call + On the old peach trees on the knoll to grope + By starlight in the grass for a last peach + The neighbors may not have taken as their right + When the house wasn't lived in? I've been looking: + I doubt if they have left us many grapes. + Before we set ourselves to right the house, + The first thing in the morning, out we go + To go the round of apple, cherry, peach, + Pine, alder, pasture, mowing, well, and brook. + All of a farm it is." + + "I know this much: + I'm going to put you in your bed, if first + I have to make you build it. Come, the light." + + When there was no more lantern in the kitchen, + The fire got out through crannies in the stove + And danced in yellow wrigglers on the ceiling, + As much at home as if they'd always danced there. + + + + +THE TELEPHONE + + + "When I was just as far as I could walk + From here to-day, + There was an hour + All still + When leaning with my head against a flower + I heard you talk. + Don't say I didn't, for I heard you say-- + You spoke from that flower on the window sill-- + Do you remember what it was you said?" + + "First tell me what it was you thought you heard." + + "Having found the flower and driven a bee away, + I leaned my head, + And holding by the stalk, + I listened and I thought I caught the word-- + What was it? Did you call me by my name? + Or did you say-- + _Someone_ said 'Come'--I heard it as I bowed." + + "I may have thought as much, but not aloud." + + "Well, so I came." + + + + +MEETING AND PASSING + + + As I went down the hill along the wall + There was a gate I had leaned at for the view + And had just turned from when I first saw you + As you came up the hill. We met. But all + We did that day was mingle great and small + Footprints in summer dust as if we drew + The figure of our being less than two + But more than one as yet. Your parasol + + Pointed the decimal off with one deep thrust. + And all the time we talked you seemed to see + Something down there to smile at in the dust. + (Oh, it was without prejudice to me!) + Afterward I went past what you had passed + Before we met and you what I had passed. + + + + +HYLA BROOK + + + By June our brook's run out of song and speed. + Sought for much after that, it will be found + Either to have gone groping underground + (And taken with it all the Hyla breed + That shouted in the mist a month ago, + Like ghost of sleigh-bells in a ghost of snow)-- + Or flourished and come up in jewel-weed, + Weak foliage that is blown upon and bent + Even against the way its waters went. + Its bed is left a faded paper sheet + Of dead leaves stuck together by the heat-- + A brook to none but who remember long. + This as it will be seen is other far + Than with brooks taken otherwhere in song. + We love the things we love for what they are. + + + + +THE OVEN BIRD + + + There is a singer everyone has heard, + Loud, a mid-summer and a mid-wood bird, + Who makes the solid tree trunks sound again. + He says that leaves are old and that for flowers + Mid-summer is to spring as one to ten. + He says the early petal-fall is past + When pear and cherry bloom went down in showers + On sunny days a moment overcast; + And comes that other fall we name the fall. + He says the highway dust is over all. + The bird would cease and be as other birds + But that he knows in singing not to sing. + The question that he frames in all but words + Is what to make of a diminished thing. + + + + +BOND AND FREE + + + Love has earth to which she clings + With hills and circling arms about-- + Wall within wall to shut fear out. + But Thought has need of no such things, + For Thought has a pair of dauntless wings. + + On snow and sand and turf, I see + Where Love has left a printed trace + With straining in the world's embrace. + And such is Love and glad to be. + But Thought has shaken his ankles free. + + Thought cleaves the interstellar gloom + And sits in Sirius' disc all night, + Till day makes him retrace his flight, + With smell of burning on every plume, + Back past the sun to an earthly room. + + His gains in heaven are what they are. + Yet some say Love by being thrall + And simply staying possesses all + In several beauty that Thought fares far + To find fused in another star. + + + + +BIRCHES + + + When I see birches bend to left and right + Across the lines of straighter darker trees, + I like to think some boy's been swinging them. + But swinging doesn't bend them down to stay. + Ice-storms do that. Often you must have seen them + Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning + After a rain. They click upon themselves + As the breeze rises, and turn many-colored + As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel. + Soon the sun's warmth makes them shed crystal shells + Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust-- + Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away + You'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen. + They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load, + And they seem not to break; though once they are bowed + So low for long, they never right themselves: + You may see their trunks arching in the woods + Years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground + Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair + Before them over their heads to dry in the sun. + But I was going to say when Truth broke in + With all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm + (Now am I free to be poetical?) + I should prefer to have some boy bend them + As he went out and in to fetch the cows-- + Some boy too far from town to learn baseball, + Whose only play was what he found himself, + Summer or winter, and could play alone. + One by one he subdued his father's trees + By riding them down over and over again + Until he took the stiffness out of them, + And not one but hung limp, not one was left + For him to conquer. He learned all there was + To learn about not launching out too soon + And so not carrying the tree away + Clear to the ground. He always kept his poise + To the top branches, climbing carefully + With the same pains you use to fill a cup + Up to the brim, and even above the brim. + Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish, + Kicking his way down through the air to the ground. + So was I once myself a swinger of birches. + And so I dream of going back to be. + It's when I'm weary of considerations, + And life is too much like a pathless wood + Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs + Broken across it, and one eye is weeping + From a twig's having lashed across it open. + I'd like to get away from earth awhile + And then come back to it and begin over. + May no fate willfully misunderstand me + And half grant what I wish and snatch me away + Not to return. Earth's the right place for love: + I don't know where it's likely to go better. + I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree, + And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk + _Toward_ heaven, till the tree could bear no more, + But dipped its top and set me down again. + That would be good both going and coming back. + One could do worse than be a swinger of birches. + + + + +PEA BRUSH + + + I walked down alone Sunday after church + To the place where John has been cutting trees + To see for myself about the birch + He said I could have to bush my peas. + + The sun in the new-cut narrow gap + Was hot enough for the first of May, + And stifling hot with the odor of sap + From stumps still bleeding their life away. + + The frogs that were peeping a thousand shrill + Wherever the ground was low and wet, + The minute they heard my step went still + To watch me and see what I came to get. + + Birch boughs enough piled everywhere!-- + All fresh and sound from the recent axe. + Time someone came with cart and pair + And got them off the wild flower's backs. + + They might be good for garden things + To curl a little finger round, + The same as you seize cat's-cradle strings, + And lift themselves up off the ground. + + Small good to anything growing wild, + They were crooking many a trillium + That had budded before the boughs were piled + And since it was coming up had to come. + + + + +PUTTING IN THE SEED + + + You come to fetch me from my work to-night + When supper's on the table, and we'll see + If I can leave off burying the white + Soft petals fallen from the apple tree. + (Soft petals, yes, but not so barren quite, + Mingled with these, smooth bean and wrinkled pea;) + And go along with you ere you lose sight + Of what you came for and become like me, + Slave to a springtime passion for the earth. + How Love burns through the Putting in the Seed + On through the watching for that early birth + When, just as the soil tarnishes with weed, + + The sturdy seedling with arched body comes + Shouldering its way and shedding the earth crumbs. + + + + +A TIME TO TALK + + + When a friend calls to me from the road + And slows his horse to a meaning walk, + I don't stand still and look around + On all the hills I haven't hoed, + And shout from where I am, What is it? + No, not as there is a time to talk. + I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground, + Blade-end up and five feet tall, + And plod: I go up to the stone wall + For a friendly visit. + + + + +THE COW IN APPLE TIME + + + Something inspires the only cow of late + To make no more of a wall than an open gate, + And think no more of wall-builders than fools. + Her face is flecked with pomace and she drools + A cider syrup. Having tasted fruit, + She scorns a pasture withering to the root. + She runs from tree to tree where lie and sweeten + The windfalls spiked with stubble and worm-eaten. + She leaves them bitten when she has to fly. + She bellows on a knoll against the sky. + Her udder shrivels and the milk goes dry. + + + + +AN ENCOUNTER + + + Once on the kind of day called "weather breeder," + When the heat slowly hazes and the sun + By its own power seems to be undone, + I was half boring through, half climbing through + A swamp of cedar. Choked with oil of cedar + And scurf of plants, and weary and over-heated, + And sorry I ever left the road I knew, + I paused and rested on a sort of hook + That had me by the coat as good as seated, + And since there was no other way to look, + Looked up toward heaven, and there against the blue, + Stood over me a resurrected tree, + A tree that had been down and raised again-- + A barkless spectre. He had halted too, + As if for fear of treading upon me. + I saw the strange position of his hands-- + Up at his shoulders, dragging yellow strands + Of wire with something in it from men to men. + "You here?" I said. "Where aren't you nowadays + And what's the news you carry--if you know? + And tell me where you're off for--Montreal? + Me? I'm not off for anywhere at all. + Sometimes I wander out of beaten ways + Half looking for the orchid Calypso." + + + + +RANGE-FINDING + + + The battle rent a cobweb diamond-strung + And cut a flower beside a ground bird's nest + Before it stained a single human breast. + The stricken flower bent double and so hung. + And still the bird revisited her young. + A butterfly its fall had dispossessed + A moment sought in air his flower of rest, + Then lightly stooped to it and fluttering clung. + + On the bare upland pasture there had spread + O'ernight 'twixt mullein stalks a wheel of thread + And straining cables wet with silver dew. + A sudden passing bullet shook it dry. + The indwelling spider ran to greet the fly, + But finding nothing, sullenly withdrew. + + + + +THE HILL WIFE + + +LONELINESS + +(_Her Word_) + + One ought not to have to care + So much as you and I + Care when the birds come round the house + To seem to say good-bye; + + Or care so much when they come back + With whatever it is they sing; + The truth being we are as much + Too glad for the one thing + + As we are too sad for the other here-- + With birds that fill their breasts + But with each other and themselves + And their built or driven nests. + + +HOUSE FEAR + + Always--I tell you this they learned-- + Always at night when they returned + To the lonely house from far away + To lamps unlighted and fire gone gray, + They learned to rattle the lock and key + To give whatever might chance to be + Warning and time to be off in flight: + And preferring the out- to the in-door night, + They learned to leave the house-door wide + Until they had lit the lamp inside. + + +THE SMILE + +(_Her Word_) + + I didn't like the way he went away. + That smile! It never came of being gay. + Still he smiled--did you see him?--I was sure! + Perhaps because we gave him only bread + And the wretch knew from that that we were poor. + Perhaps because he let us give instead + Of seizing from us as he might have seized. + Perhaps he mocked at us for being wed, + Or being very young (and he was pleased + To have a vision of us old and dead). + I wonder how far down the road he's got. + He's watching from the woods as like as not. + + +THE OFT-REPEATED DREAM + + She had no saying dark enough + For the dark pine that kept + Forever trying the window-latch + Of the room where they slept. + + The tireless but ineffectual hands + That with every futile pass + Made the great tree seem as a little bird + Before the mystery of glass! + + It never had been inside the room, + And only one of the two + Was afraid in an oft-repeated dream + Of what the tree might do. + + +THE IMPULSE + + It was too lonely for her there, + And too wild, + And since there were but two of them, + And no child, + + And work was little in the house, + She was free, + And followed where he furrowed field, + Or felled tree. + + She rested on a log and tossed + The fresh chips, + With a song only to herself + On her lips. + + And once she went to break a bough + Of black alder. + She strayed so far she scarcely heard + When he called her-- + + And didn't answer--didn't speak-- + Or return. + She stood, and then she ran and hid + In the fern. + + He never found her, though he looked + Everywhere, + And he asked at her mother's house + Was she there. + + Sudden and swift and light as that + The ties gave, + And he learned of finalities + Besides the grave. + + + + +THE BONFIRE + + + "Oh, let's go up the hill and scare ourselves, + As reckless as the best of them to-night, + By setting fire to all the brush we piled + With pitchy hands to wait for rain or snow. + Oh, let's not wait for rain to make it safe. + The pile is ours: we dragged it bough on bough + Down dark converging paths between the pines. + Let's not care what we do with it to-night. + Divide it? No! But burn it as one pile + The way we piled it. And let's be the talk + Of people brought to windows by a light + Thrown from somewhere against their wall-paper. + Rouse them all, both the free and not so free + With saying what they'd like to do to us + For what they'd better wait till we have done. + Let's all but bring to life this old volcano, + If that is what the mountain ever was-- + And scare ourselves. Let wild fire loose we will...." + + "And scare you too?" the children said together. + + "Why wouldn't it scare me to have a fire + Begin in smudge with ropy smoke and know + That still, if I repent, I may recall it, + But in a moment not: a little spurt + Of burning fatness, and then nothing but + The fire itself can put it out, and that + By burning out, and before it burns out + It will have roared first and mixed sparks with stars, + And sweeping round it with a flaming sword, + Made the dim trees stand back in wider circle-- + Done so much and I know not how much more + I mean it shall not do if I can bind it. + Well if it doesn't with its draft bring on + A wind to blow in earnest from some quarter, + As once it did with me upon an April. + The breezes were so spent with winter blowing + They seemed to fail the bluebirds under them + Short of the perch their languid flight was toward; + And my flame made a pinnacle to heaven + As I walked once round it in possession. + But the wind out of doors--you know the saying. + There came a gust. You used to think the trees + Made wind by fanning since you never knew + It blow but that you saw the trees in motion. + Something or someone watching made that gust. + It put the flame tip-down and dabbed the grass + Of over-winter with the least tip-touch + Your tongue gives salt or sugar in your hand. + The place it reached to blackened instantly. + The black was all there was by day-light, + That and the merest curl of cigarette smoke-- + And a flame slender as the hepaticas, + Blood-root, and violets so soon to be now. + But the black spread like black death on the ground, + And I think the sky darkened with a cloud + Like winter and evening coming on together. + There were enough things to be thought of then. + Where the field stretches toward the north + And setting sun to Hyla brook, I gave it + To flames without twice thinking, where it verges + Upon the road, to flames too, though in fear + They might find fuel there, in withered brake, + Grass its full length, old silver golden-rod, + And alder and grape vine entanglement, + To leap the dusty deadline. For my own + I took what front there was beside. I knelt + And thrust hands in and held my face away. + Fight such a fire by rubbing not by beating. + A board is the best weapon if you have it. + I had my coat. And oh, I knew, I knew, + And said out loud, I couldn't bide the smother + And heat so close in; but the thought of all + The woods and town on fire by me, and all + The town turned out to fight for me--that held me. + I trusted the brook barrier, but feared + The road would fail; and on that side the fire + Died not without a noise of crackling wood-- + Of something more than tinder-grass and weed-- + That brought me to my feet to hold it back + By leaning back myself, as if the reins + Were round my neck and I was at the plough. + I won! But I'm sure no one ever spread + Another color over a tenth the space + That I spread coal-black over in the time + It took me. Neighbors coming home from town + Couldn't believe that so much black had come there + While they had backs turned, that it hadn't been there + When they had passed an hour or so before + Going the other way and they not seen it. + They looked about for someone to have done it. + But there was no one. I was somewhere wondering + Where all my weariness had gone and why + I walked so light on air in heavy shoes + In spite of a scorched Fourth-of-July feeling. + Why wouldn't I be scared remembering that?" + + "If it scares you, what will it do to us?" + + "Scare you. But if you shrink from being scared, + What would you say to war if it should come? + That's what for reasons I should like to know-- + If you can comfort me by any answer." + + "Oh, but war's not for children--it's for men." + + "Now we are digging almost down to China. + My dears, my dears, you thought that--we all thought it. + So your mistake was ours. Haven't you heard, though, + About the ships where war has found them out + At sea, about the towns where war has come + Through opening clouds at night with droning speed + Further o'erhead than all but stars and angels,-- + And children in the ships and in the towns? + Haven't you heard what we have lived to learn? + Nothing so new--something we had forgotten: + _War is for everyone, for children too_. + I wasn't going to tell you and I mustn't. + The best way is to come up hill with me + And have our fire and laugh and be afraid." + + + + +A GIRL'S GARDEN + + + A neighbor of mine in the village + Likes to tell how one spring + When she was a girl on the farm, she did + A childlike thing. + + One day she asked her father + To give her a garden plot + To plant and tend and reap herself, + And he said, "Why not?" + + In casting about for a corner + He thought of an idle bit + Of walled-off ground where a shop had stood, + And he said, "Just it." + + And he said, "That ought to make you + An ideal one-girl farm, + And give you a chance to put some strength + On your slim-jim arm." + + It was not enough of a garden, + Her father said, to plough; + So she had to work it all by hand, + But she don't mind now. + + She wheeled the dung in the wheelbarrow + Along a stretch of road; + But she always ran away and left + Her not-nice load. + + And hid from anyone passing. + And then she begged the seed. + She says she thinks she planted one + Of all things but weed. + + A hill each of potatoes, + Radishes, lettuce, peas, + Tomatoes, beets, beans, pumpkins, corn, + And even fruit trees. + + And yes, she has long mistrusted + That a cider apple tree + In bearing there to-day is hers, + Or at least may be. + + Her crop was a miscellany + When all was said and done, + A little bit of everything, + A great deal of none. + + _Now_ when she sees in the village + How village things go, + Just when it seems to come in right, + She says, "_I_ know! + + It's as when I was a farmer----" + Oh, never by way of advice! + And she never sins by telling the tale + To the same person twice. + + + + +THE EXPOSED NEST + + + You were forever finding some new play. + So when I saw you down on hands and knees + In the meadow, busy with the new-cut hay, + Trying, I thought, to set it up on end, + I went to show you how to make it stay, + If that was your idea, against the breeze, + And, if you asked me, even help pretend + To make it root again and grow afresh. + But 'twas no make-believe with you to-day, + Nor was the grass itself your real concern, + Though I found your hand full of wilted fern, + Steel-bright June-grass, and blackening heads of clover. + 'Twas a nest full of young birds on the ground + The cutter-bar had just gone champing over + (Miraculously without tasting flesh) + And left defenseless to the heat and light. + You wanted to restore them to their right + Of something interposed between their sight + And too much world at once--could means be found. + The way the nest-full every time we stirred + Stood up to us as to a mother-bird + Whose coming home has been too long deferred, + Made me ask would the mother-bird return + And care for them in such a change of scene + And might our meddling make her more afraid. + That was a thing we could not wait to learn. + We saw the risk we took in doing good, + But dared not spare to do the best we could + Though harm should come of it; so built the screen + You had begun, and gave them back their shade. + All this to prove we cared. Why is there then + No more to tell? We turned to other things. + I haven't any memory--have you?-- + Of ever coming to the place again + To see if the birds lived the first night through, + And so at last to learn to use their wings. + + + + +"OUT, OUT--" + + + The buzz-saw snarled and rattled in the yard + And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood, + Sweet-scented stuff when the breeze drew across it. + And from there those that lifted eyes could count + Five mountain ranges one behind the other + Under the sunset far into Vermont. + And the saw snarled and rattled, snarled and rattled, + As it ran light, or had to bear a load. + And nothing happened: day was all but done. + Call it a day, I wish they might have said + To please the boy by giving him the half hour + That a boy counts so much when saved from work. + His sister stood beside them in her apron + To tell them "Supper." At the word, the saw, + As if to prove saws knew what supper meant, + Leaped out at the boy's hand, or seemed to leap-- + He must have given the hand. However it was, + Neither refused the meeting. But the hand! + The boy's first outcry was a rueful laugh, + As he swung toward them holding up the hand + Half in appeal, but half as if to keep + The life from spilling. Then the boy saw all-- + Since he was old enough to know, big boy + Doing a man's work, though a child at heart-- + He saw all spoiled. "Don't let him cut my hand off-- + The doctor, when he comes. Don't let him, sister!" + So. But the hand was gone already. + The doctor put him in the dark of ether. + He lay and puffed his lips out with his breath. + And then--the watcher at his pulse took fright. + No one believed. They listened at his heart. + Little--less--nothing!--and that ended it. + No more to build on there. And they, since they + Were not the one dead, turned to their affairs. + + + + +BROWN'S DESCENT + +OR + +THE WILLY-NILLY SLIDE + + + Brown lived at such a lofty farm + That everyone for miles could see + His lantern when he did his chores + In winter after half-past three. + + And many must have seen him make + His wild descent from there one night, + 'Cross lots, 'cross walls, 'cross everything, + Describing rings of lantern light. + + Between the house and barn the gale + Got him by something he had on + And blew him out on the icy crust + That cased the world, and he was gone! + + Walls were all buried, trees were few: + He saw no stay unless he stove + A hole in somewhere with his heel. + But though repeatedly he strove + + And stamped and said things to himself, + And sometimes something seemed to yield, + He gained no foothold, but pursued + His journey down from field to field. + + Sometimes he came with arms outspread + Like wings, revolving in the scene + Upon his longer axis, and + With no small dignity of mien. + + Faster or slower as he chanced, + Sitting or standing as he chose, + According as he feared to risk + His neck, or thought to spare his clothes, + + He never let the lantern drop. + And some exclaimed who saw afar + The figures he described with it, + "I wonder what those signals are + + Brown makes at such an hour of night! + He's celebrating something strange. + I wonder if he's sold his farm, + Or been made Master of the Grange." + + He reeled, he lurched, he bobbed, he checked; + He fell and made the lantern rattle + (But saved the light from going out.) + So half-way down he fought the battle + + Incredulous of his own bad luck. + And then becoming reconciled + To everything, he gave it up + And came down like a coasting child. + + "Well--I--be--" that was all he said, + As standing in the river road, + He looked back up the slippery slope + (Two miles it was) to his abode. + + Sometimes as an authority + On motor-cars, I'm asked if I + Should say our stock was petered out, + And this is my sincere reply: + + Yankees are what they always were. + Don't think Brown ever gave up hope + Of getting home again because + He couldn't climb that slippery slope; + + Or even thought of standing there + Until the January thaw + Should take the polish off the crust. + He bowed with grace to natural law, + + And then went round it on his feet, + After the manner of our stock; + Not much concerned for those to whom, + At that particular time o'clock, + + It must have looked as if the course + He steered was really straight away + From that which he was headed for-- + Not much concerned for them, I say; + + No more so than became a man-- + _And_ politician at odd seasons. + I've kept Brown standing in the cold + While I invested him with reasons; + + But now he snapped his eyes three times; + Then shook his lantern, saying, "Ile's + 'Bout out!" and took the long way home + By road, a matter of several miles. + + + + +THE GUM-GATHERER + + + There overtook me and drew me in + To his down-hill, early-morning stride, + And set me five miles on my road + Better than if he had had me ride, + A man with a swinging bag for load + And half the bag wound round his hand. + We talked like barking above the din + Of water we walked along beside. + And for my telling him where I'd been + And where I lived in mountain land + To be coming home the way I was, + He told me a little about himself. + He came from higher up in the pass + Where the grist of the new-beginning brooks + Is blocks split off the mountain mass-- + And hopeless grist enough it looks + Ever to grind to soil for grass. + (The way it is will do for moss.) + There he had built his stolen shack. + It had to be a stolen shack + Because of the fears of fire and loss + That trouble the sleep of lumber folk: + Visions of half the world burned black + And the sun shrunken yellow in smoke. + We know who when they come to town + Bring berries under the wagon seat, + Or a basket of eggs between their feet; + What this man brought in a cotton sack + Was gum, the gum of the mountain spruce. + He showed me lumps of the scented stuff + Like uncut jewels, dull and rough. + It comes to market golden brown; + But turns to pink between the teeth. + + I told him this is a pleasant life + To set your breast to the bark of trees + That all your days are dim beneath, + And reaching up with a little knife, + To loose the resin and take it down + And bring it to market when you please. + + + + +THE LINE-GANG + + + Here come the line-gang pioneering by. + They throw a forest down less cut than broken. + They plant dead trees for living, and the dead + They string together with a living thread. + They string an instrument against the sky + Wherein words whether beaten out or spoken + Will run as hushed as when they were a thought. + But in no hush they string it: they go past + With shouts afar to pull the cable taut, + To hold it hard until they make it fast, + To ease away--they have it. With a laugh, + An oath of towns that set the wild at naught + They bring the telephone and telegraph. + + + + +THE VANISHING RED + + + He is said to have been the last Red Man + In Acton. And the Miller is said to have laughed-- + If you like to call such a sound a laugh. + But he gave no one else a laugher's license. + For he turned suddenly grave as if to say, + "Whose business,--if I take it on myself, + Whose business--but why talk round the barn?-- + When it's just that I hold with getting a thing done with." + You can't get back and see it as he saw it. + It's too long a story to go into now. + You'd have to have been there and lived it. + Then you wouldn't have looked on it as just a matter + Of who began it between the two races. + + Some guttural exclamation of surprise + The Red Man gave in poking about the mill + Over the great big thumping shuffling mill-stone + Disgusted the Miller physically as coming + From one who had no right to be heard from. + "Come, John," he said, "you want to see the wheel pit?" + + He took him down below a cramping rafter, + And showed him, through a manhole in the floor, + The water in desperate straits like frantic fish, + Salmon and sturgeon, lashing with their tails. + Then he shut down the trap door with a ring in it + That jangled even above the general noise, + And came up stairs alone--and gave that laugh, + And said something to a man with a meal-sack + That the man with the meal-sack didn't catch--then. + Oh, yes, he showed John the wheel pit all right. + + + + +SNOW + + + The three stood listening to a fresh access + Of wind that caught against the house a moment, + Gulped snow, and then blew free again--the Coles + Dressed, but dishevelled from some hours of sleep, + Meserve belittled in the great skin coat he wore. + + Meserve was first to speak. He pointed backward + Over his shoulder with his pipe-stem, saying, + "You can just see it glancing off the roof + Making a great scroll upward toward the sky, + Long enough for recording all our names on.-- + I think I'll just call up my wife and tell her + I'm here--so far--and starting on again. + I'll call her softly so that if she's wise + And gone to sleep, she needn't wake to answer." + Three times he barely stirred the bell, then listened. + "Why, Lett, still up? Lett, I'm at Cole's. I'm late. + I called you up to say Good-night from here + Before I went to say Good-morning there.-- + I thought I would.--I know, but, Lett--I know-- + I could, but what's the sense? The rest won't be + So bad.--Give me an hour for it.--Ho, ho, + Three hours to here! But that was all up hill; + The rest is down.--Why no, no, not a wallow: + They kept their heads and took their time to it + Like darlings, both of them. They're in the barn.-- + My dear, I'm coming just the same. I didn't + Call you to ask you to invite me home.--" + He lingered for some word she wouldn't say, + Said it at last himself, "Good-night," and then, + Getting no answer, closed the telephone. + The three stood in the lamplight round the table + With lowered eyes a moment till he said, + "I'll just see how the horses are." + + "Yes, do," + Both the Coles said together. Mrs. Cole + Added: "You can judge better after seeing.-- + I want you here with me, Fred. Leave him here, + Brother Meserve. You know to find your way + Out through the shed." + + "I guess I know my way, + I guess I know where I can find my name + Carved in the shed to tell me who I am + If it don't tell me where I am. I used + To play--" + + "You tend your horses and come back. + Fred Cole, you're going to let him!" + + "Well, aren't you? + How can you help yourself?" + + "I called him Brother. + Why did I call him that?" + + "It's right enough. + That's all you ever heard him called round here. + He seems to have lost off his Christian name." + + "Christian enough I should call that myself. + He took no notice, did he? Well, at least + I didn't use it out of love of him, + The dear knows. I detest the thought of him + With his ten children under ten years old. + I hate his wretched little Racker Sect, + All's ever I heard of it, which isn't much. + But that's not saying--Look, Fred Cole, it's twelve, + Isn't it, now? He's been here half an hour. + He says he left the village store at nine. + Three hours to do four miles--a mile an hour + Or not much better. Why, it doesn't seem + As if a man could move that slow and move. + Try to think what he did with all that time. + And three miles more to go!" + + "Don't let him go. + Stick to him, Helen. Make him answer you. + That sort of man talks straight on all his life + From the last thing he said himself, stone deaf + To anything anyone else may say. + I should have thought, though, you could make him hear you." + + "What is he doing out a night like this? + Why can't he stay at home?" + + "He had to preach." + + "It's no night to be out." + + "He may be small, + He may be good, but one thing's sure, he's tough." + + "And strong of stale tobacco." + + "He'll pull through." + + "You only say so. Not another house + Or shelter to put into from this place + To theirs. I'm going to call his wife again." + + "Wait and he may. Let's see what he will do. + Let's see if he will think of her again. + But then I doubt he's thinking of himself + He doesn't look on it as anything." + + "He shan't go--there!" + + "It _is_ a night, my dear." + + "One thing: he didn't drag God into it." + + "He don't consider it a case for God." + + "You think so, do you? You don't know the kind. + He's getting up a miracle this minute. + Privately--to himself, right now, he's thinking + He'll make a case of it if he succeeds, + But keep still if he fails." + + "Keep still all over. + He'll be dead--dead and buried." + + "Such a trouble! + Not but I've every reason not to care + What happens to him if it only takes + Some of the sanctimonious conceit + Out of one of those pious scalawags." + + "Nonsense to that! You want to see him safe." + + "You like the runt." + + "Don't you a little?" + + "Well, + I don't like what he's doing, which is what + You like, and like him for." + + "Oh, yes you do. + You like your fun as well as anyone; + Only you women have to put these airs on + To impress men. You've got us so ashamed + Of being men we can't look at a good fight + Between two boys and not feel bound to stop it. + Let the man freeze an ear or two, I say.-- + He's here. I leave him all to you. Go in + And save his life.--All right, come in, Meserve. + Sit down, sit down. How did you find the horses?" + + "Fine, fine." + + "And ready for some more? My wife here + Says it won't do. You've got to give it up." + + "Won't you to please me? Please! If I say please? + Mr. Meserve, I'll leave it to _your_ wife. + What _did_ your wife say on the telephone?" + + Meserve seemed to heed nothing but the lamp + Or something not far from it on the table. + By straightening out and lifting a forefinger, + He pointed with his hand from where it lay + Like a white crumpled spider on his knee: + "That leaf there in your open book! It moved + Just then, I thought. It's stood erect like that, + There on the table, ever since I came, + Trying to turn itself backward or forward, + I've had my eye on it to make out which; + If forward, then it's with a friend's impatience-- + You see I know--to get you on to things + It wants to see how you will take, if backward + It's from regret for something you have passed + And failed to see the good of. Never mind, + Things must expect to come in front of us + A many times--I don't say just how many-- + That varies with the things--before we see them. + One of the lies would make it out that nothing + Ever presents itself before us twice. + Where would we be at last if that were so? + Our very life depends on everything's + Recurring till we answer from within. + The thousandth time may prove the charm.--That leaf! + It can't turn either way. It needs the wind's help. + But the wind didn't move it if it moved. + It moved itself. The wind's at naught in here. + It couldn't stir so sensitively poised + A thing as that. It couldn't reach the lamp + To get a puff of black smoke from the flame, + Or blow a rumple in the collie's coat. + You make a little foursquare block of air, + Quiet and light and warm, in spite of all + The illimitable dark and cold and storm, + And by so doing give these three, lamp, dog, + And book-leaf, that keep near you, their repose; + Though for all anyone can tell, repose + May be the thing you haven't, yet you give it. + So false it is that what we haven't we can't give; + So false, that what we always say is true. + I'll have to turn the leaf if no one else will. + It won't lie down. Then let it stand. Who cares?" + + "I shouldn't want to hurry you, Meserve, + But if you're going--Say you'll stay, you know? + But let me raise this curtain on a scene, + And show you how it's piling up against you. + You see the snow-white through the white of frost? + Ask Helen how far up the sash it's climbed + Since last we read the gage." + + "It looks as if + Some pallid thing had squashed its features flat + And its eyes shut with overeagerness + To see what people found so interesting + In one another, and had gone to sleep + Of its own stupid lack of understanding, + Or broken its white neck of mushroom stuff + Short off, and died against the window-pane." + + "Brother Meserve, take care, you'll scare yourself + More than you will us with such nightmare talk. + It's you it matters to, because it's you + Who have to go out into it alone." + + "Let him talk, Helen, and perhaps he'll stay." + + "Before you drop the curtain--I'm reminded: + You recollect the boy who came out here + To breathe the air one winter--had a room + Down at the Averys'? Well, one sunny morning + After a downy storm, he passed our place + And found me banking up the house with snow. + And I was burrowing in deep for warmth, + Piling it well above the window-sills. + The snow against the window caught his eye. + 'Hey, that's a pretty thought'--those were his words. + 'So you can think it's six feet deep outside, + While you sit warm and read up balanced rations. + You can't get too much winter in the winter.' + Those were his words. And he went home and all + But banked the daylight out of Avery's windows. + Now you and I would go to no such length. + At the same time you can't deny it makes + It not a mite worse, sitting here, we three, + Playing our fancy, to have the snowline run + So high across the pane outside. There where + There is a sort of tunnel in the frost + More like a tunnel than a hole--way down + At the far end of it you see a stir + And quiver like the frayed edge of the drift + Blown in the wind. I _like_ that--I like _that_. + Well, now I leave you, people." + + "Come, Meserve, + We thought you were deciding not to go-- + The ways you found to say the praise of comfort + And being where you are. You want to stay." + + "I'll own it's cold for such a fall of snow. + This house is frozen brittle, all except + This room you sit in. If you think the wind + Sounds further off, it's not because it's dying; + You're further under in the snow--that's all-- + And feel it less. Hear the soft bombs of dust + It bursts against us at the chimney mouth, + And at the eaves. I like it from inside + More than I shall out in it. But the horses + Are rested and it's time to say good-night, + And let you get to bed again. Good-night, + Sorry I had to break in on your sleep." + + "Lucky for you you did. Lucky for you + You had us for a half-way station + To stop at. If you were the kind of man + Paid heed to women, you'd take my advice + And for your family's sake stay where you are. + But what good is my saying it over and over? + You've done more than you had a right to think + You could do--_now_. You know the risk you take + In going on." + + "Our snow-storms as a rule + Aren't looked on as man-killers, and although + I'd rather be the beast that sleeps the sleep + Under it all, his door sealed up and lost, + Than the man fighting it to keep above it, + Yet think of the small birds at roost and not + In nests. Shall I be counted less than they are? + Their bulk in water would be frozen rock + In no time out to-night. And yet to-morrow + They will come budding boughs from tree to tree + Flirting their wings and saying Chickadee, + As if not knowing what you meant by the word storm." + + "But why when no one wants you to go on? + Your wife--she doesn't want you to. We don't, + And you yourself don't want to. Who else is there?" + + "Save us from being cornered by a woman. + Well, there's"--She told Fred afterward that in + The pause right there, she thought the dreaded word + Was coming, "God." But no, he only said + "Well, there's--the storm. That says I must go on. + That wants me as a war might if it came. + Ask any man." + + He threw her that as something + To last her till he got outside the door. + He had Cole with him to the barn to see him off. + When Cole returned he found his wife still standing + Beside the table near the open book, + Not reading it. + + "Well, what kind of a man + Do you call that?" she said. + + "He had the gift + Of words, or is it tongues, I ought to say?" + + "Was ever such a man for seeing likeness?" + + "Or disregarding people's civil questions-- + What? We've found out in one hour more about him + Than we had seeing him pass by in the road + A thousand times. If that's the way he preaches! + You didn't think you'd keep him after all. + Oh, I'm not blaming you. He didn't leave you + Much say in the matter, and I'm just as glad + We're not in for a night of him. No sleep + If he had stayed. The least thing set him going. + It's quiet as an empty church without him." + + "But how much better off are we as it is? + We'll have to sit here till we know he's safe." + + "Yes, I suppose you'll want to, but I shouldn't. + He knows what he can do, or he wouldn't try. + Get into bed I say, and get some rest. + He won't come back, and if he telephones, + It won't be for an hour or two." + + "Well then. + We can't be any help by sitting here + And living his fight through with him, I suppose." + + * * * * * + + Cole had been telephoning in the dark. + Mrs. Cole's voice came from an inner room: + "Did she call you or you call her?" + + "She me. + You'd better dress: you won't go back to bed. + We must have been asleep: it's three and after." + + "Had she been ringing long? I'll get my wrapper. + I want to speak to her." + + "All she said was, + He hadn't come and had he really started." + + "She knew he had, poor thing, two hours ago." + + "He had the shovel. He'll have made a fight." + + "Why did I ever let him leave this house!" + + "Don't begin that. You did the best you could + To keep him--though perhaps you didn't quite + Conceal a wish to see him show the spunk + To disobey you. Much his wife'll thank you." + + "Fred, after all I said! You shan't make out + That it was any way but what it was. + Did she let on by any word she said + She didn't thank me?" + + "When I told her 'Gone,' + 'Well then,' she said, and 'Well then'--like a threat. + And then her voice came scraping slow: 'Oh, you, + Why did you let him go'?" + + "Asked why we let him? + You let me there. I'll ask her why she let him. + She didn't dare to speak when he was here. + Their number's--twenty-one? The thing won't work. + Someone's receiver's down. The handle stumbles. + The stubborn thing, the way it jars your arm! + It's theirs. She's dropped it from her hand and gone." + + "Try speaking. Say 'Hello'!" + + "Hello. Hello." + + "What do you hear?" + + "I hear an empty room-- + You know--it sounds that way. And yes, I hear-- + I think I hear a clock--and windows rattling. + No step though. If she's there she's sitting down." + + "Shout, she may hear you." + + "Shouting is no good." + + "Keep speaking then." + + "Hello. Hello. Hello. + You don't suppose--? She wouldn't go out doors?" + + "I'm half afraid that's just what she might do." + + "And leave the children?" + + "Wait and call again. + You can't hear whether she has left the door + Wide open and the wind's blown out the lamp + And the fire's died and the room's dark and cold?" + + "One of two things, either she's gone to bed + Or gone out doors." + + "In which case both are lost. + Do you know what she's like? Have you ever met her? + It's strange she doesn't want to speak to us." + + "Fred, see if you can hear what I hear. Come." + + "A clock maybe." + + "Don't you hear something else?" + + "Not talking." + + "No." + + "Why, yes, I hear--what is it?" + + "What do you say it is?" + + "A baby's crying! + Frantic it sounds, though muffled and far off." + + "Its mother wouldn't let it cry like that, + Not if she's there." + + "What do you make of it?" + + "There's only one thing possible to make, + That is, assuming--that she has gone out. + Of course she hasn't though." They both sat down + Helpless. "There's nothing we can do till morning." + + "Fred, I shan't let you think of going out." + + "Hold on." The double bell began to chirp. + They started up. Fred took the telephone. + "Hello, Meserve. You're there, then!--And your wife? + Good! Why I asked--she didn't seem to answer. + He says she went to let him in the barn.-- + We're glad. Oh, say no more about it, man. + Drop in and see us when you're passing." + + "Well, + She has him then, though what she wants him for + I _don't_ see." + + "Possibly not for herself. + Maybe she only wants him for the children." + + "The whole to-do seems to have been for nothing. + What spoiled our night was to him just his fun. + What did he come in for?--To talk and visit? + Thought he'd just call to tell us it was snowing. + If he thinks he is going to make our house + A halfway coffee house 'twixt town and nowhere----" + + "I thought you'd feel you'd been too much concerned." + + "You think you haven't been concerned yourself." + + "If you mean he was inconsiderate + To rout us out to think for him at midnight + And then take our advice no more than nothing, + Why, I agree with you. But let's forgive him. + We've had a share in one night of his life. + What'll you bet he ever calls again?" + + + + +_THE SOUND OF THE TREES_ + + + _I wonder about the trees. + Why do we wish to bear + Forever the noise of these + More than another noise + So close to our dwelling place? + We suffer them by the day + Till we lose all measure of pace, + And fixity in our joys, + And acquire a listening air. + They are that that talks of going + But never gets away; + And that talks no less for knowing, + As it grows wiser and older, + That now it means to stay. + My feet tug at the floor + And my head sways to my shoulder + Sometimes when I watch trees sway, + From the window or the door. + I shall set forth for somewhere, + I shall make the reckless choice + Some day when they are in voice + And tossing so as to scare + The white clouds over them on. + I shall have less to say, + But I shall be gone._ + + * * * * * + + + + +SOME RECENT POETRY + + Stephen Vincent Benet's + Heavens and Earth + + Thomas Burke's + The Song Book of Quong Lee of Limehouse + + Richard Burton's + Poems of Earth's Meaning + + Francis Carlin's + My Ireland + The Cairn of Stars + + Padraic Colum's + Wild Earth and Other Poems + + Grace Hazard Conkling's + Wilderness Songs + + Walter De La Mare's + The Listeners and Other Poems + Peacock Pie. Ill'd by W. H. Robinson + Motley and Other Poems + Collected Poems 1901-1918. 2 Vols. + + Robert Frost's + North of Boston + Mountain Interval. New Edition, with Portrait + A Boy's Will + + Carl Sandburg's + Cornhuskers + Chicago Poems + + Lew Sarrett's + Many Many Moons + + Louis Untermeyer's + These Times + ---- and Other Poets + Poems of Heinrich Heine (Translated) + The New Era in American Poetry + + Margaret Widdemer's + The Old Road to Paradise + Factories and Other Poems + + * * * * * + +THE HOME BOOK OF VERSE + + American and English 1580-1918 + Selected and arranged by Burton Egbert Stevenson + Third Edition Revised and Enlarged + +Over 4,000 pages of the best verse in English, ranging all the way +from the classics to some of the best newspaper verse of to-day. In +several different editions. + + * * * * * + + HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY + PUBLISHERS + NEW YORK + + * * * * * + + + + +Transcriber Notes + +Typographical inconsistencies have been changed and are listed below. + +Archaic and variable spelling and hyphenation is preserved. + +Author's punctuation style is preserved, except where noted. + +Passages in italics indicated by _underscores_. + +Passages in bold indicated by =equal signs=. + + +Transcriber Changes + +The following changes were made to the original text: + + Page 46: Added period after =trees= (Tomatoes, beets, + beans, pumpkins, corn, And even fruit =trees.=) + + Page 63: Added stanza break between go and Don't (And + three miles more to =go!" "Don't= let him go.) + + Page 63: Single quote changed to double after =through= + ("He'll pull =through."=) + + Page 72: Removed extra stanza break after =stumbles= + (The handle =stumbles. The= stubborn thing, the way it + jars your arm!) + + Page 74: Removed extra stanza break after =wife= + ("Hello, Meserve. You're there, then!--And your =wife? + Good!= Why I asked--she didn't seem to answer.) + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mountain Interval, by Robert Frost + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MOUNTAIN INTERVAL *** + +***** This file should be named 29345.txt or 29345.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/3/4/29345/ + +Produced by David Starner, Katherine Ward and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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