Friday, February 6, 2009

meditations on poetry that will not improve my mood

Desert Places
by: Robert Frost

Snow falling and night falling fast, oh, fast
In a field I looked into going past,
And the ground almost covered smooth in snow,
But a few weeds and stubble showing last.

The woods around it have it--it is theirs.
All animals are smothered in their lairs.
I am too absent-spirited to count;
The loneliness includes me unawares.

And lonely as it is that loneliness
Will be more lonely ere it will be less--
A blanker whiteness of benighted snow
With no expression, nothing to express.

They cannot scare me with their empty spaces
Between stars--on stars where no human race is.
I have it in me so much nearer home
To scare myself with my own desert places.

you ever have one of those nights?

1 comment:

CrookedCharisma said...

I have a better one for you baby:
"Hejest at scares that have felt no wound, but soft what lady through thus window break, it is the East. And Juliet is the sun." We all must find our suns me thinks.