North of Boston | Page 3

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ETEXTS*Ver.04.07.00*END*
Prepared by David Reed [email protected]
or [email protected]

North of Boston
by Robert Frost
TO
E. M. F.
THIS BOOK OF PEOPLE
THE PASTURE
I'M going out to clean the pasture spring;
I'll only stop to rake the
leaves away
(And wait to watch the water clear, I may):
I sha'n't be
gone long.--You come too.
I'm going out to fetch the little calf

That's standing by the mother. It's so young,
It totters when she licks
it with her tongue.
I sha'n't be gone long.--You come too.
CONTENTS
Mending Wall
The Death of the Hired Man
The Mountain
A
Hundred Collars
Home Burial
The Black Cottage
Blueberries
A
Servant to Servants
After Apple-picking
The Code
The
Generations of Men
The Housekeeper
The Fear
The Self-seeker

The Wood-pile
Good Hours
Mending Wall
SOMETHING there is that doesn't love a wall,
That sends the
frozen-ground-swell under it,
And spills the upper boulders in the sun;

And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.
The work of hunters is
another thing:
I have come after them and made repair
Where they
have left not one stone on a stone,
But they would have the rabbit out
of hiding,
To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,
No one has
seen them made or heard them made,
But at spring mending-time we
find them there.
I let my neighbour know beyond the hill;
And on a
day we meet to walk the line
And set the wall between us once again.

We keep the wall between us as we go.

To each the boulders that
have fallen to each.
And some are loaves and some so nearly balls


We have to use a spell to make them balance:
"Stay where you are
until our backs are turned!"
We wear our fingers rough with handling
them.
Oh, just another kind of out-door game,
One on a side. It
comes to little more:
There where it is we do not need the wall:
He
is all pine and I am apple orchard.
My apple trees will never get
across
And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.
He only says,
"Good fences make good neighbours."
Spring is the mischief in me,
and I wonder
If I could put a notion in his head:
"Why do they
make good neighbours? Isn't it
Where there are cows? But here there
are no cows.
Before I built a wall I'd ask to know
What I was
walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offence.

Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That wants it down." I
could say "Elves" to him,
But it's not elves exactly, and I'd rather

He said it for himself. I see him there
Bringing a stone grasped firmly
by the top
In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed.
He moves
in darkness as it seems to me,
Not of woods only