Where Robert Frost lived; how butterflies are

The Boston Globe ^ | 9/14/2003 | Diane Foulds

[Radix]

SHAFTSBURY, Vt. -- The most striking thing about Robert Frost was his eyes. My mother remembers how piercing they were, the palest of blue, and how everyone whispered when he walked in to the Bennington bank where she worked summers as a teller.

[Radix]

Posts are made by fools like me.

[Radix]

Please share Ping.

[truthkeeper]

Well, I loved it. BTTT

[TrappedInLiberalHell]

My mother had a professor in college who loved "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening". He died young, and that poem haunted her the rest of her life. When she died in 1993 I recited it at her graveside funeral. The poem haunts me, too. To me it speaks of facing one's own mortality.

[exit82]

Makes you want to take a road less traveled by.

[Endeavor]

That poem should be the Iraq Doctrine.

[theFIRMbss]

I found a dimpled spider, fat and white,
On a white heal-all, holding up a moth
Like a white piece of rigid satin cloth—
Assorted characters of death and blight
Mixed ready to begin the morning right,
Like the ingredients of a witches' broth—
A snow-drop spider, a flower like a froth,
And dead wings carried like a paper kite.

What had that flower to do with being white,
The wayside blue and innocent heal-all?
What brought the kindred spider to that height,
Then steered the white moth thither in the night?
What but design of darkness to appall?—
If design govern in a thing so small.

Robert Frost

[ladyrustic]

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold,
Her early leaf's a flower,
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf,
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day,
Nothing gold can stay.

Robert Frost

What a masterpiece!
Hope the punctuation's right...