Today is the poet Robert Frost's birthday.
I remember well sitting in English class and listening to some of his poems being read by the teacher. I remember the dread of having to figure out which poem to choose to memorize and recite before the class. I was highly disappointed when my two top picks were snagged out of my reach. Those were
"Stopping
by Woods on a Snowy Evening" and "The
Road Not Taken". Instead I was given "Asking for Roses" and here is the poem for your enjoyment.
"Asking for Roses"
A house that lacks, seemingly, mistress
and master,
With doors that none but the wind ever closes,
Its
floor all littered with glass and with plaster;
It stands in a
garden of old-fashioned roses.
I pass by that way in the
gloaming with Mary;
'I wonder,' I say, 'who the owner of those
is.'
'Oh, no one you know,' she answers me airy,
'But one we
must ask if we want any roses.'
So we must join hands in the
dew coming coldly
There in the hush of the wood that reposes,
And turn and go up to the open door boldly,
And knock to the
echoes as beggars for roses.
'Pray, are you within there,
Mistress Who-were-you?'
'Tis Mary that speaks and our errand
discloses.
'Pray, are you within there? Bestir you, bestir you!
'Tis summer again; there's two come for roses.
'A word with you, that of the singer recalling--
Old Herrick:
a saying that every maid knows is
A flower unplucked is but left
to the falling,
And nothing is gained by not gathering roses.'
We do not loosen our hands' intertwining
(Not caring so
very much what she supposes),
There when she comes on us mistily
shining
And grants us by silence the boon of her roses.
Robert Frost
