Monday, December 8, 2014

Snowbirch


This:
to stop you in your tracks
and 
remind you of:



Birches

by Robert Frost

When I see birches bend to left and right
Across the lines of straighter darker trees,
I like to think some boy's been swinging them.
But swinging doesn't bend them down to stay
As ice-storms do. Often you must have seen them
Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning
After a rain. . . 

(partial poem. . .)

4 comments:

  1. The last line will forever be my favorite:

    "I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree,
    And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk
    Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,
    But dipped its top and set me down again.
    That would be good both going and coming back.
    One could do worse than be a swinger of birches."

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    Replies
    1. I agree, Kate . . . it's a beautiful line . . .

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  2. Thank you for this post. It makes you stop and enjoy the stillness and beauty of nature.

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  3. Love! Love the birches, the snow, the light, the poem. xo

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