After Reading Robert Frost
星期三 八月 19, 2009 7:23 am
When I see the woods,
I think of Frost.
I remember his thrush; and
his last song through dusk,
the light dying out.
I can hear the wind sighing -
two roads departs,
one unfolds his journey,
the other, left behind in his dream.
Gazing at his receding figure,
I know I too have paths to debate,
I know I too have miles to wade.
And I take a road to share,
and miles to stay close,
for as long
as we are.