Into My Own
One of my wishes is that those dark trees,
So old and firm they scarecely 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 sme 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.
–Robert Frost
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Excellent way to begin the day!
My mother met Robert Frost at a reading around 1950. The two of them were the only people in the building’s entryway: Frost introduced himself to the young teenager, bowed, and doffed his hat. We could use some of that sort of civility these days. (I still tip my hat to ladies – what was good enough for Robert Frost is good enough for me – but younger women often have no context in which to understand the gesture.)