Friday, 27 May 2011

Contemplation



As I came to the edge of the woods,
Thrush music — hark!
Now if it was dusk outside,
Inside it was dark.

To dark in the woods for a bird
By sleight of wing
To better its perch for the night,
Though it still could sing.

The last of the light of the sun
That had died in the west
Still lived for one song more
In a thrush's breast.

Far in the pillared dark
Thrush music went —
Almost like a call to come in
To the dark and lament.

But no, I was out for stars;
I would not come in.
I meant not even if asked;
And I hadn't been.

Robert Frost.

6 comments:

S. Etole said...

what an awesome photo ... the poem is perfect with it

Sandra said...

really really pretty photo. very nice poem and it matches the photo perfectly

Montanagirl said...

Fabulous Moon shot. Love the poem.

Beatrice P. Boyd said...

Lovely poem from one of my favorite poets and perfect with the photo...another photoshop work?

Scott said...

You've created a beautiful image here.

Genie -- Paris and Beyond said...

Frost's poem is the perfect accompaniment to your stunning night shot. I bow down to your photographic skills and whatever might have happened in the computer to produce this scene! Love it...

Bises,
Genie