Here is a night-time poem for those of us still working on this cold, rainy evening:
Acquainted with the Night
I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain -- and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.
I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.
I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,
But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height,
One luminary clock against the sky
Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.
--Robert Frost
Terrific, too.
ReplyDeleteHey, I meant to mention ... in the second half of Carl Sandburg's blowout win on the neutral court in the tournament quarter-finals, I looked up the regular-season scores. I was really impressed to see that Robert Frost had nipped Sandburg by two in the Frost game of the home-and-home.