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Design – Poem by Robert Frost
I found a dimpled spider, fat and white,On a white heal-all, holding up a mothLike a white piece of rigid satin cloth —Assorted characters of death and blightMixed ready to begin the morning right,Like the ingredients of a witches’ broth —A snow-drop spider, a flower like a froth,And dead wings carried like a paper kite….
The Secret Sits – Poem by Robert Frost
We dance round in a ring and suppose,But the Secret sits in the middle and knows.
ALWAYS the same, when on a fated night
As may be in dark woods, and with a songIt shall not make again all winter longOf hissing on the yet uncovered ground,I almost stumble looking up and round,As one who overtaken by the endGives up his errand, and lets death descendUpon him where he is, with nothing doneTo evil, no important triumph won,More than…
The Axe-Helve – Poem by Robert Frost
I’ve known ere now an interfering branchOf alder catch my lifted axe behind me.But that was in the woods, to hold my handFrom striking at another alder’s roots,And that was, as I say, an alder branch.This was a man, Baptiste, who stole one dayBehind me on the snow in my own yardWhere I was working…
There’s a place called Far-away Meadow
Or such is the talk at the farmhouse:The meadow is finished with men.Then now is the chance for the flowersThat can’t stand mowers and plowers.It must be now, through, in seasonBefore the not mowing brings trees on,Before trees, seeing the opening,March into a shadowy claim.The trees are all I’m afraid of,That flowers can’t bloom in…
Where had I heard this wind before
What would it take my standing there for,Holding open a restive door,Looking down hill to a frothy shore?Summer was past and the day was past.Sombre clouds in the west were massed.Out on the porch’s sagging floor,Leaves got up in a coil and hissed,Blindly struck at my knee and missed.Something sinister in the toneTold me my…