The Figure In The Doorway Poem By Robert Frost,
The grade surmounted, we were riding hIgh
Through level nlountalns nothIng to the eye
But scrub oak, scrub oak and the lack of earth
That kept the oaks from getting any grrth.
But as through the lnonotony we ran,
We came to where there was a living man.
His great gaunt figure £Ued hIs cabin door,
And had he fallen inward on the Hoor,
He must have measured to the further wall.
But we who passed were not to see him fall.
The miles and miles he lIved from anywhere
Were eVidently somethmg he could bear.
He stood unshaken, and if grIm and gaunt,
It was not necessarily from want.
He had the oaks for heating and for light.
He had a hen, he had a pIg in sight.
He had a well, he had the rain to catch.
He had a ten-by-twenty garden patch.
Nor did he lack for common entertainment.
That I assume was what our passing train meant
He could look at us in our diner eating,
And if so moved uncurl a hand In greeting.