One of my wishes is that those dark trees,
So old and firm they scarcely show the breeze,
Were not, as 'twere, the merest mask of gloom,
But stretched away unto the edge of doom.
I should not be withheld but that some day
into their vastness I should steal away,
Fearless of ever finding open land,
or highway where the slow wheel pours the sand.
I do not see why I should e'er turn back,
Or those should not set forth upon my track
To overtake me, who should miss me here
And long to know if still I held them dear.
They would not find me changed from him they knew—
Only more sure of all I thought was true.
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Wow, this poem is fantastic. It shows marvellous control. Nothing appears to be by accident.
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Fabulous poem. Frost was a genius. You're right, MargaretG. It works perfectly that way.
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This is a sonnet written in couplets and iambic pentameter. The form bends to his purpose.
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I LOVE FROST!!!!...he was a truly amazing poet, he sets it's flow with such subtlty that you barely even register that it rhymes because the flow wouldn't really be affected if it didn't
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i really liked the poem. and i wish that i could learn to write like he does. thanks for posting this poem so that i could read it.
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