Slave to a springtime passion for the earth.
How Love burns through the Putting in the Seed
On through the watching for that early birth
When, just as the soil tarnishes with weed,
The sturdy seedling with arched body comes
Shouldering its way and shedding the earth crumbs. – Robert Frost
A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. – Robert Frost
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