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Out through the fields and the woods
And over the walls I have wended
I have climbed the hills of view
And looked at the world, and descended
I have come by the highway home
And lo, it is ended
The leaves are all dead on the ground
Save those that the oak is keeping
To ravel them one by one
And let them go scraping and creeping
Out over the crusted snow
When others are sleeping
And the dead leaves lie huddled and still
No longer blown hither and thither
The last lone aster is gone
The flowers of the witch-hazel wither
The heart is still aching to seek
But the feet question Whither
Ah, when to the heart of man
Was it ever less than a treason
To go with the drift of things
To yield with a grace to reason
And bow and accept the end
Of a love or a season?
- Álbum:
- Robert Frost Reads His Poetry - The 1956 Caedmon Recordings
- Robert Frost Reading His Own Poems
- The Voice of the Poet
- Robert Frost Reads His Poetry
- Robert Frost, Edgar Lee Masters, Carl Sandburg & Max...
- Robert Frost Reading His Own Poems: Record 1
- Reads His Poetry
- Robert Frost Reads His Poetry (Mono Version)
- Frost Reads Frost - The 1957 Decca Recordings
- In Their Own Voices: A Century of Recorded Poetry
- 100 Great Poems - Classic Poets & Beatnik Freaks
- Ultimate Poetry & Story Collection
- The Spoken Word: Poets - Historic Recordings from the...
- Poetry Speaks to Children
- Poetry on Record: 98 Poets Read Their Work, 1888-2006
- The Caedmon Poetry Collection
- Beat Generation - Music & Poetry