What kept his eyes from giving back the gaze
was the lamp tilted near them in his hand.
And scared the outer night, which has its sounds, familiar, like the roar of trees and crack of branches...
common things.........
He consigned to the moon, such as she was,
So late-arising, to the broken moon
As better than the sun in any case
For such a charge, his snow upon the roof,
His icicles along the wall to keep;
And slept. The log that shifted with a jolt
Once in the stove, disturbed him and he shifted, and eased his heavy breathing,
but still slept.
One aged man--one man---can't keep a house, a farm, a countryside,
it's thus he does it of a winter night.
(Mountain Interval collection) by Robert Frost is in the public domain


















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