robert frost quotes

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As I came to the edge of the woods,
Thrush music--hark!
Now if it was dusk outside,
Inside it was dark.
Then word goes forth in Formic:
"Death's come to Jerry McCormic,
Our selfless forager Jerry.
It couldn't be called ungentle.
But how thoroughly departmental.
Go bring him home to his people.
Lay him in state on a sepal.
Ants are a curious race;
An ant on the tablecloth
Ran into a dormant moth
And lonely as it is, that loneliness
Will be more lonely ere it will be less--
They cannot scare me with their empty spaces
Between stars--on stars where no human race is.
I found a dimpled spider, fat and white,
On a white heal-all, holding up a moth
What but design of darkness to appall?--
If design govern in a thing so small.
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