Robert Frost
The Need of Being Versed in Country Things (1920)
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The house had gone to bring again |
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To the midnight sky a sunset glow. |
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Now the chimney was all of the house that stood, |
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Like a pistil after the petals go. |
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The barn opposed across the way, |
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That would have joined the house in flame |
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Had it been the will of the wind, was left |
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To bear forsaken the place’s name. |
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No more it opened with all one end |
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For teams that came by the stony road |
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To drum on the floor with scurrying hoofs |
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And brush the mow with the summer load. |
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The birds that came to it through the air |
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At broken windows flew out and in, |
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Their murmur more like the sigh we sigh |
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From too much dwelling on what has been. |
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Yet for them the lilac renewed its leaf, |
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And the aged elm, though touched with fire; |
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And the dry pump flung up an awkward arm; |
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And the fence post carried a strand of wire. |
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For them there was really nothing sad. |
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But though they rejoiced in the nest they kept, |
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One had to be versed in country things |
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Not to believe the phoebes wept. |