Wednesday, February 14, 2007


I came across this 1962 poem while reading Robert Frost today. It is from his collection "In the Clearing," which also includes his poem written for the Inauguration of John F. Kennedy. Not sure exactly to whom or what Frost is referring in this piece. Coming as late in his life as it does, and amid the fresh notoriety and accompanying scrutiny he received that year, I wonder if he refers to himself? This is so typically, wonderfully Robert Frost.

He is no fugitive--escaped, escaping.
No one has seen him stumble looking back.
His fear is not behind him but beside him
On either hand to make his course perhaps
A crooked straightness yet no less a straightness.
He runs face forward. He is a pursuer.
He seeks a seeker who in his turn seeks
Another still, lost far into the distance.
Any who seek him seek in him the seeker.
His life is a pursuit of a pursuit forever.
It is the future that creates his present.
All is an interminable chain of longing.

1 comment:

  1. I randomly came across your blog and just thought I'd let you know I enjoyed reading over your posts. I, too, wrote a similar post called "let it snow." I agree with is never too old to enjoy the snow!


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