Reluctance

[med_cat]

Reluctance

Out through the fields and the woods
And over the walls I have wended;
I have climbed the hills of view
And looked at the world, and descended;
I have come by the highway home,
And lo, it is ended.

The leaves are all dead on the ground,
Save those that the oak is keeping
To ravel them one by one
And let them go scraping and creeping
Out over the crusted snow,
When others are sleeping.

And the dead leaves lie huddled and still,
No longer blown hither and thither;
The last lone aster is gone;
The flowers of the witch-hazel wither;
The heart is still aching to seek,
But the feet question 'Whither?'

Ah, when to the heart of man
Was it ever less than a treason
To go with the drift of things,
To yield with a grace to reason,
And bow and accept the end
Of a love or a season?

~~Robert Frost

(reposted from elenbarathi in greatpoets)

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Beauty

[derhofnarr.livejournal.com]

I walk through a field of unkempt grass
Caressing an occasional dandelion with my toe
Thinking about the indelible past
As onward through life’s journey I go
The moving finger writes and moveth on
And none are able to arrest the flow of time
But now, walking through this field,
Even time itself seems to be gone
Or if not that, then moving very slowly
As if time were forced to yield to a power
Greater than itself, a power unbounded
Even by Time - and what is that ?
It is the power of Beauty, which lasts forever in my mind.
What? Beauty in a field of unkempt grass, you ask?
I admit, ‘twould be hard to explain my affinity
For a field of grass and worthless bane . . .
But . . . who are you to question me
As to the beauty I can see . . .

T. H. Damon