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#1
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Bereft
Where had I heard this wind before
Change like this to a deeper roar? What would it take my standing there for, Holding open a restive door, Looking down hill to a frothy shore? Summer was past and day was past. Somber clouds in the west were massed. Out in the porch's sagging floor, leaves got up in a coil and hissed, Blindly struck at my knee and missed. Something sinister in the tone Told me my secret must be known: Word I was in the house alone Somehow must have gotten abroad, Word I was in my life alone, Word I had no one left but God. Robert Frost |
The Following User Says Thank You to Last Island For This Useful Post: | ||
qayym (Saturday, June 07, 2008) |
#2
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Originally Posted by Last Island
Word I was in my life alone, Word I had no one left but God. ************************************ God bless u,My lady.U ve revived -the days gone wid the wind- with this verse.It seems I can still listen to my great mentorr lecturing on BEREFT by Robert Frost. ************************************ An Old Man’s Winter Night ALL out of doors looked darkly in at him
Through the thin frost, almost in separate stars, That gathers on the pane in empty rooms. What kept his eyes from giving back the gaze Was the lamp tilted near them in his hand. What kept him from remembering what it was That brought him to that creaking room was age. He stood with barrels round him—at a loss. And having scared the cellar under him In clomping there, he scared it once again In clomping off;—and scared the outer night, Which has its sounds, familiar, like the roar Of trees and crack of branches, common things, But nothing so like beating on a box. A light he was to no one but himself Where now he sat, concerned with he knew what, A quiet light, and then not even that. He consigned to the moon, such as she was, So late-arising, to the broken moon As better than the sun in any case For such a charge, his snow upon the roof, His icicles along the wall to keep; And slept. The log that shifted with a jolt Once in the stove, disturbed him and he shifted, And eased his heavy breathing, but still slept. One aged man—one man—can’t fill a house, A farm, a countryside, or if he can, It’s thus he does it of a winter night.
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"You interpret my heart, my nature, as you wish to believe it. In truth, I have no secret longing to be saved from myself." (Eugene Onegin – Alexander Pushkin) |
The Following User Says Thank You to S.H.Virk For This Useful Post: | ||
Last Island (Thursday, June 12, 2008) |
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