In Neglect
He is scornful of folk his scorn cannot reach.
He is scornful of folk his scorn cannot reach.
Robert Forst
gutenberg.
org
Title: A Boy's Will
Author: Robert Frost
Posting Date: January 17, 2009 [EBook #3021]
Release Date: January, 2002
Language: English
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A BOY'S WILL ***
Produced by David Reed
A BOY'S WILL
By Robert Frost
CONTENTS
Part I
Into My Own
The youth is persuaded that he will be rather more than less himself
for having forsworn the world.
Ghost House
He is happy in society of his choosing.
My November Guest
He is in love with being misunderstood.
Love and a Question
He is in doubt whether to admit real trouble to a place beside the
hearth with love.
A Late Walk
He courts the autumnal mood.
Stars
There is no oversight of human affairs.
Storm Fear
He is afraid of his own isolation.
Wind and Window Flower
Out of the winter things he fashions a story of modern love.
To the Thawing Wind (audio)
He calls on change through the violence of the elements.
A Prayer in Spring
He discovers that the greatness of love lies not in forward-looking
thoughts;
Flower-gathering
nor yet in any spur it may be to ambition.
Rose Pogonias
He is no dissenter from the ritualism of nature;
Asking for Roses
nor from the ritualism of youth which is make-believe.
Waiting--Afield at Dusk
He arrives at the turn of the year.
In a Vale
Out of old longings he fashions a story.
A Dream Pang
He is shown by a dream how really well it is with him.
In Neglect
He is scornful of folk his scorn cannot reach.
The Vantage Point
And again scornful, but there is no one hurt.
Mowing
He takes up life simply with the small tasks.
Going for Water
Part II
Revelation
He resolves to become intelligible, at least to himself, since there
is no help else;
The Trial by Existence
and to know definitely what he thinks about the soul;
In Equal Sacrifice
about love;
The Tuft of Flowers
about fellowship;
Spoils of the Dead
about death;
Pan with Us
about art (his own);
The Demiurge's Laugh
about science.
Part III
Now Close the Windows
It is time to make an end of speaking.
A Line-storm Song
It is the autumnal mood with a difference.
October
He sees days slipping from him that were the best for what they
were.
My Butterfly
There are things that can never be the same.
Reluctance
Into My Own
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.
Ghost House
I DWELL in a lonely house I know
That vanished many a summer ago,
And left no trace but the cellar walls,
And a cellar in which the daylight falls,
And the purple-stemmed wild raspberries grow.
O'er ruined fences the grape-vines shield
The woods come back to the mowing field;
The orchard tree has grown one copse
Of new wood and old where the woodpecker chops;
The footpath down to the well is healed.
I dwell with a strangely aching heart
In that vanished abode there far apart
On that disused and forgotten road
That has no dust-bath now for the toad.
Night comes; the black bats tumble and dart;
The whippoorwill is coming to shout
And hush and cluck and flutter about:
I hear him begin far enough away
Full many a time to say his say
Before he arrives to say it out.
Title: A Boy's Will
Author: Robert Frost
Posting Date: January 17, 2009 [EBook #3021]
Release Date: January, 2002
Language: English
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A BOY'S WILL ***
Produced by David Reed
A BOY'S WILL
By Robert Frost
CONTENTS
Part I
Into My Own
The youth is persuaded that he will be rather more than less himself
for having forsworn the world.
Ghost House
He is happy in society of his choosing.
My November Guest
He is in love with being misunderstood.
Love and a Question
He is in doubt whether to admit real trouble to a place beside the
hearth with love.
A Late Walk
He courts the autumnal mood.
Stars
There is no oversight of human affairs.
Storm Fear
He is afraid of his own isolation.
Wind and Window Flower
Out of the winter things he fashions a story of modern love.
To the Thawing Wind (audio)
He calls on change through the violence of the elements.
A Prayer in Spring
He discovers that the greatness of love lies not in forward-looking
thoughts;
Flower-gathering
nor yet in any spur it may be to ambition.
Rose Pogonias
He is no dissenter from the ritualism of nature;
Asking for Roses
nor from the ritualism of youth which is make-believe.
Waiting--Afield at Dusk
He arrives at the turn of the year.
In a Vale
Out of old longings he fashions a story.
A Dream Pang
He is shown by a dream how really well it is with him.
In Neglect
He is scornful of folk his scorn cannot reach.
The Vantage Point
And again scornful, but there is no one hurt.
Mowing
He takes up life simply with the small tasks.
Going for Water
Part II
Revelation
He resolves to become intelligible, at least to himself, since there
is no help else;
The Trial by Existence
and to know definitely what he thinks about the soul;
In Equal Sacrifice
about love;
The Tuft of Flowers
about fellowship;
Spoils of the Dead
about death;
Pan with Us
about art (his own);
The Demiurge's Laugh
about science.
Part III
Now Close the Windows
It is time to make an end of speaking.
A Line-storm Song
It is the autumnal mood with a difference.
October
He sees days slipping from him that were the best for what they
were.
My Butterfly
There are things that can never be the same.
Reluctance
Into My Own
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.
Ghost House
I DWELL in a lonely house I know
That vanished many a summer ago,
And left no trace but the cellar walls,
And a cellar in which the daylight falls,
And the purple-stemmed wild raspberries grow.
O'er ruined fences the grape-vines shield
The woods come back to the mowing field;
The orchard tree has grown one copse
Of new wood and old where the woodpecker chops;
The footpath down to the well is healed.
I dwell with a strangely aching heart
In that vanished abode there far apart
On that disused and forgotten road
That has no dust-bath now for the toad.
Night comes; the black bats tumble and dart;
The whippoorwill is coming to shout
And hush and cluck and flutter about:
I hear him begin far enough away
Full many a time to say his say
Before he arrives to say it out.
