'I'm always looking for the Hows and the Whys and the Whats,' said Muskrat, 'That is why I speak as I do. You've heard of Muskrat's Much-in-Little, of course?'
'No,' said the child. 'What is it?'
- The Mouse and his Child. Russell Hoban.

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Monday, 11 October 2010

A Late Walk


A Late Walk

When I go through the mowing field,
The headless aftermath,
Smooth-laid like thatch with the heavy dew,
Half closes the garden path.

And when I come to the garden ground,
The whir of sober birds
Up from the tangle of withered weeds
Is sadder than any words.

A tree beside the wall stands bare,
But a leaf that lingered brown,
Disturbed, I doubt not, by my thought,
Comes softly rattling down.

I end not far from my going forth
By picking the faded blue
Of the last remaining aster flower
To carry again to you.

Robert Frost.

3 comments:

  1. Lovely poem. Invokes the mood of autumn..my favourite Frost poem is 'The Road Less Travelled'

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  2. Yes, Jules, very autumnal. I had the opportunity to visit Robert Frost's farm in New Hampshire not too long ago. It was a wonderful experience to walk along the paths under the silver birches.

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  3. I love Robert Frost - so evocative - thank you!

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