Originality and initiative are what I ask for my country. For myself the originality need be no more than the freshness of a poem run in the way I ha… - Robert Frost

Like a piece of ice on a hot stove the poem must ride on its own melting.

Like a piece of ice on a hot stove the poem must ride on its own melting ... Read it a hundred times; it will forever keep its freshness as a metal keeps its fragrance. It can never lose its sense of a meaning that once unfolded by surprise as it went.

Part of a moon was falling down the west,
Dragging the whole sky with it to the hills.
Its light poured softly in her lap. She saw
And spread her apron to it. She put out her hand
Among the harp-like morning-glory strings,
Taut with the dew from garden bed to eaves,
As if she played unheard the tenderness
That wrought on him beside her in the night.

Forgive, O Lord, my little jokes on Thee And I'll forgive Thy great big one on me.

The Hyla breed That shouted in the mist a month ago, Like ghost of sleigh-bells in a ghost of snow.