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Poem by Robert Lee Frost


The Vanishing Red


He is said to have been the last Red man
In Action. And the Miller is said to have laughed--
If you like to call such a sound a laugh.
But he gave no one else a laughers license.
For he turned suddenly grave as if to say,
Whose business,--if I take it on myself,
Whose business--but why talk round the barn?--
When its just that I hold with getting a thing done with.
You cant get back and see it as he saw it.
Its too long a story to go into now.
Youd have to have been there and lived it.
They you wouldnt have looked on it as just a matter
Of who began it between the two races.

Some guttural exclamation of surprise
The Red man gave in poking about the mill
Over the great big thumping shuffling millstone
Disgusted the Miller physically as coming
From one who had no right to be heard from.
Come, John, he said, you want to see the wheel-pint?

He took him down below a cramping rafter,
And showed him, through a manhole in the floor,
The water in desperate straits like frantic fish,
Salmon and sturgeon, lashing with their tails.
The he shut down the trap door with a ring in it
That jangled even above the general noise,
And came upstairs alone--and gave that laugh,
And said something to a man with a meal-sack
That the man with the meal-sack didnt catch--then.
Oh, yes, he showed John the wheel-pit all right.



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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