Willful Homing Poem

Willful Homing Poem By Robert Frost,

It is getting dark and time he drew to a house,
But the blizzard blinds him to any house ahead.
The storm gets down his neck in an icy souse
That sucks his breath hke a wicked cat in bed.
The snow blows on him and off him, exerting force
Downward to make him SIt astride a drift,
Imprint a saddle and calmly consider a cuurse.
He peers out shrewdly into the thick and swift.
Since he means to come to a door he will come to a door,
Although so compromised of aim and rate
He may fumble wide of the knob a yard or more,
And to those concerned he may seem a little late.

Willful Homing Poem

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