Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
Nothing gold can stay ~ Robert Frost
You’ll wait a long, long time for anything much
To happen in heaven beyond the floats of cloud
And the Northern Lights that run like tingling nerves.
The sun and moon get crossed, but they never touch,
Nor strike out fire from each other nor crash out loud.
The planets seem to interfere in their curves
But nothing ever happens, no harm is done.
We may as well go patiently on with our life,
And look elsewhere than to stars and moon and sun
For the shocks and changes we need to keep us sane.
It is true the longest drought will end in rain,
The longest peace in China will end in strife.
Still it wouldn’t reward the watcher to stay awake
In hopes of seeing the calm of heaven break
On his particular time and personal sight.
That calm seems certainly safe to last to-night.
Robert Frost – West-Running Brook, 1928
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.
I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.
I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,
But not to call me back or say good-by;
And further still at an unearthly height,
One luminary clock against the sky
Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.
Robert Frost
The sun was warm but the wind was chill.
You know how it is with an April day.
When the sun is out and the wind is still,
You’re one month on in the middle of May.
But if you so much as dare to speak,
a cloud come over the sunlit arch,
And wind comes off a frozen peak,
And you’re two months back in the middle of March.
Robert Frost, Two Tramps in Mud Time, 1926
No need to take the jacket, I thought on the way out the door but did it anyway.
I had never managed without 🙂
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Poem by Robert Frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I –
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
By Robert Frost
Hmm! Which way?
Happy Walk and remember your packed lunch and map 🙂
Hvilken vej skal jeg vælge? Det er et spørgsmål, vi møder mange gange i vores liv. Især hvis vi vælger vores egen vej og ikke går med strømmen.
Nogle gange er der god grund til selvransagelse. Kunne jeg have gjort tingene anderledes? Hvis jeg bare havde gjort dette og hint.
Derfor fortolker mange mennesker Robert Frosts digt The Road not taken som en forspildt mulighed i livet, der kunne have resulteret i en stor glæde. Men Frost ville ha’ os til at opfatte digtet bogstaveligt.
Jeg kom til at tænke på digtet en søndag, da jeg tilfældigt mødte to mænd i Jægersborg Dyrehave. De kunne høres længe før de blev synlige.
De skældte hinanden ud. De kunne ikke finde vej. Det var varmt! Ja, tænk engang. En kvælende varme, der meget vel kan dæmpe hjernens aktivitet.
Da jeg nærmede sig, sank en af mændene hen over styret af cyklen af bare træthed.
De var gået ned på udstyr 🙂
Deres cykeldæk var på ingen måde egnet til det friske grus på stierne. Nu måtte de finde en asfaltvej. De ønskede at komme ud af parken, og den udvikling kunne ikke gå hurtigt nok. Én af dem havde Google map på sin telefon, men hver gang han foreslog en vej afviste den anden idéen. Jeg spurgte stille og roligt, om jeg kunne hjælpe, og deres brug af sproget ændrede på stedet.
Jeg gav dem et fysisk kort, og forklarede dem vejen i få ord. Det var en taknemmelig gerning. Det blev de så glade for, at det smittede.
Robert Frost havde en ven i England forfatteren Edward Thomas. De vandrede sammen i bjergene, og da Frost rejste hjem til USA, sendte han Thomas en kopi af “The Road Not Taken”.
Hensigten med digtet var ment som en kærlig mobning af den ubeslutsomhed som Edward Thomas havde vist på deres mange ture sammen.
Frost senere udtrykte ærgrelse, at hans læsere tog digtet mere alvorligt, end han havde tænkt.
God vandretur og husk madpakke og kort 🙂
HANNA'S WALK 
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