Am meisten gelesen ▸
Robert Frost
They sent him back to her. The letter came
Saying.... And she could have him. And before
She could be sure there was no hidden ill
Under the formal writing, he was in her sight,
Living. They gave him back to her alive--
How else? They are not known to send the dead--
And not disfigured visibly. His face?
His hands? She had to look, to ask,
‘What is it, dear?’ And she had given all
And still she had all--they had--they the lucky!
Wasn’t she glad now? Everything seemed won,
And all the rest for them permissible ease.
She had to ask, ‘What was it, dear?’
‘Enough,
Yet not enough. A bullet through and through,
High in the breast. Nothing but what good care
Head bowed, tail lowered
He slinks, dejected
He moves, turns around
Round and round
As he settles down in his space.
I am leaving for office.
Sancho looks at me, unsmiling
I cannot fathom his expression
But I know his sorrow at my leaving
I cannot look him in the eye, I cannot bear to.
In the evening, I rush back home
To see him, craning his neck
For a glimpse
Waiting, beyond the grilled gate
Anxious, excited, tail wagging
Vigorously.
I will ne’er blame thee-
You’ve every right
To love or thwart –
But I wish –
When you left-
You could’ve left-
A little of me!
We were just getting started
It's my heart that you kept
In silence we parted
In silence you left
Cut it right below at the stem
Where it bursts out of the soil
Seeking light and rain and air
The soil softened with the fallen yellowed leaves.
In the grove,
Warblers might be twittering
Pheasants would be muttering
Doves would be cooing
Lizards would be basking
In the sun.
The lone old cobra would be huddling,
Its last skin too, shed.
Above, the green slender long leaves
Would be chattering in the breeze
The poles, a-yellowed, a- green
Would be listening and smiling.
I left you in the morning,
And in the morning glow,
You walked a way beside me
To make me sad to go.
Do you know me in the gloaming,
Gaunt and dusty grey with roaming?
Are you dumb because you know me not,
Or dumb because you know?
All for me? And not a question
For the faded flowers gay
That could take me from beside you
For the ages of a day?
They are yours, and be the measure
Of their worth for you to treasure,
The measure of the little while
That I’ve been long away.
Our coming together from far ends
amazes us both,
neither knowing the other
was cowardly too,
two years ago,
now we confess it, laughing.
We joy in such presence
my cynical dear:
we are in love,
knowing it usually passes
with flowers and years—
still honoring it.
On waking at four
by your beautiful person
I listened
to your heavy breathing
Is this the last
day we may walk
together? Then
I suppose I
must gaze
straight ahead.
Oh I have sown my love so wide
That he will find it everywhere;
It will awake him in the night,
It will enfold him in the air.
I set my shadow in his sight
And I have winged it with desire,
That it may be a cloud by day
And in the night a shaft of fire.
Had we but parted at the start,
I'd cut some figure in your heart ;
And though the lands between were wide,
You'd often see me at your side.
But having loved and stayed, my dear,
I'm always everywhere but here.
And, still more paradoxical.
You always see me not at all.
Maid of Gotham, ere we part.
Have a hospitable heart —
Since our own delights must end,
Introduce me to your friend.
My soul was silent with delight
Too long!
And then, after we parted,
Love found me in the night,
Wandering bitter-hearted,
And touched my lips with song;
That I, silent no more, might sound your praise,
And all the sweetness of your ways,
Find melodies for my great wrong —
And so live tunefully the tuneless days.