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Robert Lee Frost (Роберт Ли Фрост)


A Late Walk


When I go up through the mowing field,
The headless aftermath,
Smooth-laid like thatch with the heavy dew,
Half closes the garden path.

And when I come to the garden ground,
The whir of sober birds
Up from the tangle of withered weeds
Is sadder than any words

A tree beside the wall stands bare,
But a leaf that lingered brown,
Disturbed, I doubt not, by my thought,
Comes softly rattling down.

I end not far from my going forth
By picking the faded blue
Of the last remaining aster flower
To carry again to you.



Robert Lee Frost's other poems:
  1. Looking for a Sunset Bird in Winter
  2. The Demiurge’s Laugh
  3. The Census-Taker
  4. The Black Cottage
  5. The Thatch


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