Poem by Robert Lee Frost (1874-1963)
Suggested by MetaPoetics - Thanks!
The Pasture
I'm going out to clean the pasture spring;
I'll only stop to rake the leaves away
(And wait to watch the water clear, I may):
I sha'n't be gone long.—You come too.
I'm going out to fetch the little calf
That's standing by the mother. It's so young,
It totters when she licks it with her tongue.
I sha'n't be gone long.—You come too.
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Written on 2022-04-11 at 00:00
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