Poetry: Robert Frost

Orig­i­nal­ly pub­lished at Ene­my of Entropy. Please leave any com­ments there. The Arm­ful For every par­cel I stoop down to seize I lose some oth­er off my arms and knees, And the whole pile is slip­ping, bot­tles, buns, Extremes too hard to com­pre­hend at once. Yet noth­ing I should care to leave behind. With all I have to hold […]

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