Clear And Colder Poem By Robert Frost,
Wmd the season-climate mIxer
In my Witches’ Weather PrImer
Says to make tlus Fall ElIXir
First you let the summer SImmer,
Using neIther spoon nor skimmer,
TIll about the right consistence.
(ThIs lIke fate by stars is reckoned,
None remainIng in eXIstence
Under magnitude the second),
Then take some left-over winter
Far to north of the St. Lawrence
Leaves to strip and branches splinter,
Bring on wind. Bnng rain In torrents
Colder than the season warrants.
Dash it with some snow for powder.
If thIS seems like witchcraft rather,
If this seems a wItches’ chowder
(All my eye and Cotton MatherI),
Wait and watch the liquor settle.
I could stand whole dayfuls of it.
Wind she brews a heady kettle.
Human beings love It-love it.
Gods above are not above it.