'These are the same woods', he pointed ahead
'Robert Frost Trail', the signs read.
A part of me wanted to apply the brake
but I continued to drive the car, instead.
Was it the woods, the flake or the lake
Assuming it is those, was a big mistake.
It is the man, the master, the guru
who gave these a life, with his own take.
Charming are his verses, also admired by Nehru
At the Amherst college he taught a lucky few.
Envy I do, the benefits they reap.
With him as my teacher, I wish I grew.
A poet, they say, mature with sorrow that's deep
'Enjoy every moment', is a motto I keep.
There are smiles to go before I weep
There are smiles to go before I weep.
In high school, I read the poem 'Stopping by the woods on a snowy evening' by Robert Frost. The description of the place was scarily cold. Probably the author's name played a part in making the place feel colder. I made a resolve never to set foot on such a place especially in the dark.
Robert Frost was a lecturer at Amherst college, MA. Last weekend, I visited my pals at UMass Amherst, MA and they live almost right across 'The Robert Frost Trail'.
I have spent four cold winters in the snow capital of northeast USA and have come across more than half a dozen snow storms and even now when I read his poem, I somehow feel that those woods are still colder...
