Tuesday, September 16, 2008

The Sound of Trees by Robert Frost

One of my favorite poems. The trees are stirring in the breeze today and, oh, it makes me restless.

The Sound of Trees

I wonder about the trees.

Why do we wish to bear

Forever the noise of these

More than another noise

So close to our dwelling place?

We suffer them by the day

Till we lose all measure of pace,

And fixity in our joys,

And acquire a listening air.

They are that that talks of going

But never gets away;

And that talks no less for knowing,

As it grows wiser and older,

That now it means to stay.

My feet tug at the floor

And my head sways to my shoulder

Sometimes when I watch trees sway,

From the window or the door.

I shall set forth for somewhere,

I shall make the reckless choice

Some day when they are in voice

And tossing so as to scare

The white clouds over them on.

I shall have less to say,

But I shall be gone.

Robert Frost


Trishelle said...

M&M, I eagerly anticipate your blog entry, my sweet sista-friend.

This poem takes my breath away because it reminds me of those refreshing moments I have had laying under trees, feeling the pockets of sun sparkle on my face and drinking it all in.

Rynell said...

I love this Frost poem.

The Yarn Queen said...