Riders
The surest thing there is is we are riders, / And though none too successful at it, guiders,
What Fifty Said
❦
When I was young my teachers were the old.
I gave up fire for form till I was cold.
I suffered like a metal being cast.
I went to school to age to learn the past.
Now when I am old my teachers are the young.
What can't be molded must be cracked and sprung.
I strain at lessons fit to start a suture.
I got to school to youth to learn the future.
More poems by Robert Frost
Gathering Leaves
Spades take up leaves / No better than spoons,
The Valley's Singing Day
The sound of the closing outside door was all. / You made no sound in the grass with your footfall,
On Looking Up By Chance At The Constellations
You'll wait a long, long time for anything much / To happen in heaven beyond the floats of cloud