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Passions in Poetry1928 West-Running Brook
The Birthplace
by Robert Frost

 

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Passions in Poetry Home > All Poems > Classic Poetry > Robert Frost > 1928 West-Running Brook > The Door in the Dark The Door in the Dark
Robert Frost
Poetry | Biography
1928 West-Running Brook
The Birthplace
by Robert Frost

Here further up the mountain slope
Than there was every any hope,
My father built, enclosed a spring,
Strung chains of wall round everything,
Subdued the growth of earth to grass,
And brought our various lives to pass.
A dozen girls and boys we were.
The mountain seemed to like the stir,
And made of us a little while--
With always something in her smile.
Today she wouldn't know our name.
(No girl's, of course, has stayed the same.)
The mountain pushed us off her knees.
And now her lap is full of trees.

 

Poem submitted by: Ron

Submission Notes: None

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The Birthplace

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