Robert Frost

I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.

She is as in a field a silken tent
At midday when a sunny summer breeze
Has dried the dew and all its ropes relent

Back out of all this now too much for us,
Back in a time made simple by the loss
Of detail, burned, dissolved, and broken off

The road at the top of the rise
Seems to come to an end
And take off into the skies.

Lord, I have loved your sky,
Be it said against or for me,
Have loved it clear and high

It took that pause to make him realize
The mountain he was climbing had the slant
As of a book held up before his eyes

There's first a gloveless hand warm from my pocket,
A perch and resting place 'twixt wood and wood,
Bright-black-eyed silvery creature, brushed with brown

The land was ours before we were the land's.
She was our land more than a hundred years
Before we were her people. She was ours

One misty evening, one another's guide,
We two were groping down a Malvern side
The last wet fields and dripping hedges home.

The grade surmounted we were speeding high
Through level mountains nothing to the eye
But scrub oak, scrub oak and the lack of earth

Let the downpour roil and toil!
The worst it can do to me
Is carry some garden soil

On the back side of the house
Where it wears no paint to the weather
And so shows most its age