A Time To Talk
by Robert Frost
When a friend calls me from the road
And slows his horse to a meaning walk,
I don't stand still and look around
On all the hills I haven't hoed,
And shout from where I am, "What is it?"
No, not as there is a time to talk.
I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground,
Blade-end up and five feet tall,
And plod: I go up to the stone wall
For a friendly visit.
From: Schmidt, Gary D., ed. 1994. Poetry for Young People: Robert Frost.
Illus. by Henri Sorenson. New York: Scholastic. ISBN 0439254191.
FYI: An audio reading of the poem is also available here.
2 comments:
How sweet is this!
Thanks a bunch. The best part was that my son actually read my post, too. What a sweetheart!
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