The Most Of It Poem

The Most Of It Poem By Robert Frost,

He thought he kept the universe alone;
For all the voice in answer he could wake,
Was but the mockIng echo of rus own
From some tree-hidden chff across the lake
Some monnng from the boulder-broken beach
He would cry out on hfe, that what it wants
Is not its own love back in copy speech,
But counter-love, origmal response.
And nothIng ever came of what he cried
Unless it was the embodiment that crashed
In the chff’s talus on the other side,
And then in the far distant water splashed
But after a time allowed for it to swim,
Instead of proving human when it neared
And someone else addibonal to hun,
As a great buck It powerfully appeared,
Pushing the crumpled water up ahead,
And landed pouring like a waterfall,
And stumbled through the rocks with horny tread,
And forced the underbrush-and that was all.

The Most Of It Poem

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