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a touch of frost

Originally published at Faith Seeking Understanding. You can comment here or there.

Himring shared a meme a while back:

When you see this, post some poetry…

With the heat we’ve all been having, I thought a little autumn-themed poetry would suit people’s moods. And really, you can’t go wrong with Robert Frost.

from “Birches”

But swinging doesn’t bend them down to stay
As ice-storms do. 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
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.

(Read the full poem, or find other Robert Frost poems.)


Jul. 24th, 2013 07:18 pm (UTC)
I love Robert Frost.

Here's another poet I love (and my fav poem from him):


When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

— Wendell Berry
Jul. 24th, 2013 07:51 pm (UTC)
I love this poem, too! I've always known Wendell Berry as a public intellectual and activist, but I'd never heard he also wrote poetry. I shall have to look him up now.

Glad you liked my offering.
Jul. 24th, 2013 08:02 pm (UTC)
Berry and I both graduated from the same college, though he many years before me. He remained active at that college and I had him several times in lit classes as a guest lecturer and saw him speak many times in conferences. His writing, both activist and fiction/poetry, is pretty darn good. I recommend it.

And yeah, Frost is awesome. I went to a park in New England once that had his poems throughout it. Supposedly, he wrote some of them there, according to the signs. Regardless, I loved reading them there on the hiking trail.



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