A Boundless Moment Poem By Robert Frost

He halted In the wInd, and-what was that,
Far in the maples, pale, but not a ghost?
He stood there bringing March agamst hIs thought,
And yet too ready to beheve the most.
‘Ob, that’s the Paradise-in-bloom,’ I said;
And truly it was fair enough for flowers
Had we but in us to assume in March
Such white luxuriance of May for ours.
We stood a moment so in a strange world,
Myself as one his own pretense deceIves,
And then I said the truth (and we moved on).
A young beech chngIng to its last year’s leaves.