my favorite spring + community + rural poem.
I'm going out to clean the pasture spring;
I'll only stop to rake the leaves away
(And wait to watch the water clear, I may):
I shan't be gone long-- You come too.
I'm going out to fetch the little calf
That's standing by the mother. It's so young
It totters when she licks it with her tongue.
I shan't be gone long-- You come too.
robert frost,
"The Pasture",
1910
No comments:
Post a Comment