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Not Of School Age Poem

Not Of School Age Poem By Robert Frost,

Around bend after bend,
It was blown woods and no end.
I came to but one house
I made but the one fnend.
At the one house a chIld was out
Who drew back at first In doubt,
But spoke to me In a gale
That blew so he had to shout.
His cheek smeared with apple sand~
A part apple in his hand,
He pOInted on up the road
As one haVIng war-command.
A parent, his gentler one,
Looked forth on her small son,
And wondered with me there
What now was being done.
His accent was not good
But I slowly understood.
Something where I could go

He couldn’t but I could.
He was too young to go,
Not over four or so.
‘VeIl, would I please go to school,
And the big Hag they had-you know
The bIg Hag, the red-whIteAnd blue

Hag, the gleat sIghtHe bet It was out today,
And would I see if he was right?

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