Wednesday, March 4, 2009

An Old Man's Winter Night - By Robert Frost

An Old Man's Winter Night

    All out of doors looked darkly in at him 
    Through the thin frost, almost in separate stars, 
    That gathers on the pane in empty rooms. 
    What kept his eyes from giving back the gaze 
    Was the lamp tilted near them in his hand. 
    What kept him from remembering what it was 
    That brought him to that creaking room was age. 
    He stood with barrels round him - at a loss. 
    And having scared the cellar under him 
    In clomping there, he scared it once again 
    In clomping off; - and scared the outer night, 
    Which has its sounds, familiar, like the roar 
    Of trees and crack of branches, common things, 
    But nothing so like beating on a box. 
    A light he was to no one but himself 
    Where now he sat, concerned with he knew what, 
    A quiet light, and then not even that. 
    He consigned to the moon, such as she was, 
    So late-arising, to the broken moon 
    As better than the sun in any case 
    For such a charge, his snow upon the roof, 
    His icicles along the wall to keep; 
    And slept. The log that shifted with a jolt 
    Once in the stove, disturbed him and he shifted, 
    And eased his heavy breathing, but still slept. 
    One aged man - one man - can't keep a house, 
    A farm, a countryside, or if he can, 
    It's thus he does it of a winter night.

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Super Man and I at Jamestown Island

Schnauzers!

Schnauzers!
Our 2 Giant Schnauzers and our Mini Schnauzer (Smokie) hanging out in my office. Notice Smokie rules over the big ones.