He halted in the wind, and – what was that
Far in the maples, pale, but not a ghost?
He stood there bringing March against his thought,
And yet too ready to believe the most.
‘Oh, that’s the Paradise-in-bloom,’ I said;
And truly it was fair enough for flowers
had we but in us to assume in march
Such white luxuriance of May for ours.
We stood a moment so in a strange world,
Myself as one his own pretense deceives;
And then I said the truth (and we moved on) .
A young beech clinging to its last year’s leaves.
England tasted the works of Robert Lee Frost before America as his works were published initially in England despite being an American Poet. He is highly regarded for his realistic depictions of rural life and his command of American colloquial speech which gifted him a Four time Pulitzer Prize winner for Poetry Frost became one of America’s rare “public literary figures, almost an artistic institution.” On July 22, 1961, Frost was named poet laureate of Vermont.