Like a piece of ice on a hot stove the poem must ride on its own melting. – Robert Frost
The land was ours before we were the land s. She was our land more than a hundred years before we were her people. – Robert Frost
Like a piece of ice on a hot stove the poem must ride on its own melting. – Robert Frost
The land was ours before we were the land s. She was our land more than a hundred years before we were her people. – Robert Frost
My sorrow, when shes here with me, thinks these dark days of autumn rain are beautiful as days can be; she loves the bare, the withered tree; she walks the sodden pasture lane. – Robert Frost
Heaven gives its glimpses only to those not in position to look too close. – Robert Frost