SOMETHING there is that doesn't love a wall, That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it, And spills the upper boulders in the sun;
And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.
I have come after them and made repair
Where they have left not one stone on stone,
But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,
To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,
But at spring mending-time we find them there. I let my neighbor know beyond the hill;
And on a day we meet to walk the line And set the wall between us once again.
To each the boulders that have fallen to each. And some are loaves and some so nearly balls
We have to use a spell to make them balance:
"Stay where you are until our backs are turned!"
Oh, just another kind of outdoor game,
One on a side. It comes to little more:
He is all pine and I am apple-orchard.
He only says, "Good fences make good neighbors."
Spring is the mischief in me,
and I wonder If I could put a notion in his head:
Before I built a wall I'd ask to know What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offence. Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That wants it down!" I could say "Elves" to him, 35But it's not elves exactly, and I'd rather
He said it for himself. I see him there,
Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top
Not of woods only and the shade of trees.
He will not go behind his father's saying,
And he likes having thought of it so well
He says again,
"Good fences make good neighbors."
Robert Frost
No hay comentarios:
Publicar un comentario