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Poem by Robert Lee Frost


The Cow in Apple-Time


Something inspires the only cow of late
To make no more of a wall than an open gate,
And think no more of wall-builders than fools.
Her face is flecked with pomace and she drools
A cider syrup. Having tasted fruit,
She scorns a pasture withering to the root.
She runs from tree to tree where lie and sweeten.
The windfalls spiked with stubble and worm-eaten.
She leaves them bitten when she has to fly.
She bellows on a knoll against the sky.
Her udder shrivels and the milk goes dry.



Robert Lee Frost


Robert Lee Frost's other poems:
  1. The Census-Taker
  2. Hyla Brook
  3. Meeting and Passing
  4. The Mountain
  5. The Self-Seeker


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