If you're going to tell me where you are
There is something I will want to know:
Can you navigate by a star,
Or is your guess by to-and-fro?
For those who can speak the stars
Are wondrous fellows to engage,
But most speak of the near and far
Like minor guests upon the stage.
Where is your heart? Where your mind?
That is what I hoped to hear from thee:
How fearsome that we speak so blind,
Like ancient echoes on the sea.
Reply to Frost
A reply to "Revelation," in a similar form.
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2 comments:
Trivia bit: My grandfather had Frost as an English teacher at Pinkerton Academy in Derry circa 1912. He didn't think much of him. Gramps went on to become a CPA, the first in NH, so he may not have had much appreciation for a poetic soul, but I suspect he was right. Frost had only taken the job to have some cash money while rescuing his mother's farm.
Son #2, who never knew or didn't remember the story, got a tattoo of the last line of "Two Tramps In Mud Time" on the underside of his arm, in 1930's Underwood typewriter font.
It's a simple style. That doesn't make it bad, of course.
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