The Wood-pile Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABCDEFGBHIJKLMNOPQRS TUVWCVXYVZICA2CB2QC2 D2E2A| Out walking in the frozen swamp one gray day | A |
| I paused and said I will turn back from here | B |
| No I will go on farther and we shall see | C |
| The hard snow held me save where now and then | D |
| One foot went through The view was all in lines | E |
| Straight up and down of tall slim trees | F |
| Too much alike to mark or name a place by | G |
| So as to say for certain I was here | B |
| Or somewhere else I was just far from home | H |
| A small bird flew before me He was careful | I |
| To put a tree between us when he lighted | J |
| And say no word to tell me who he was | K |
| Who was so foolish as to think what he thought | L |
| He thought that I was after him for a feather | M |
| The white one in his tail like one who takes | N |
| Everything said as personal to himself | O |
| One flight out sideways would have undeceived him | P |
| And then there was a pile of wood for which | Q |
| I forgot him and let his little fear | R |
| Carry him off the way I might have gone | S |
| Without so much as wishing him good night | T |
| He went behind it to make his last stand | U |
| It was a cord of maple cut and split | V |
| And piled and measured four by four by eight | W |
| And not another like it could I see | C |
| No runner tracks in this year's snow looped near it | V |
| And it was older sure than this year's cutting | X |
| Or even last year's or the year's before | Y |
| The wood was gray and the bark warping off it | V |
| And the pile somewhat sunken Clematis | Z |
| Had wound strings round and round it like a bundle | I |
| What held it though on one side was a tree | C |
| Still growing and on one a stake and prop | A2 |
| These latter about to fall I thought that only | C |
| Someone who lived in turning to fresh tasks | B2 |
| Could so forget his handiwork on which | Q |
| He spent himself the labor of his ax | C2 |
| And leave it there far from a useful fireplace | D2 |
| To warm the frozen swamp as best it could | E2 |
| With the slow smokeless burning of decay | A |
Robert Frost
(1)
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About The Wood-pile
The Wood-pile is a poem by Robert Frost. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.
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