Come In
Robert Frost
As I came to the edge of the woods,
Thrush music. Hark!
Now, if it was dusk outside,
Inside it was dark.
Too dark for a bird, by sleight of wing, to better its perch for the night,
Though it still could sing.
The last light of the sun that had died in the west
Still lived for one song more, in a thrush's breast.
Far in the pillared dark thrush music went.
Almost like a call to come into the dark and lament.
But no, I was out for stars, I would not come in.
I meant, not even if asked.
And I hadn't been.
PWBPeeps is a group that posts a daily diary and nightly open thread for animal lovers. We share photos, seek & give advice about pet health and behavior issues, support each other in times of sadness and stress, celebrate together when times are good, and on most days have an inordinate amount of fun.
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