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Home: Poetry: Robert Frost: Stars
| STARS |
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a poem by Robert Frost
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- HOW countlessly they congregate
- O'er our tumultuous snow,
- Which flows in shapes as tall as trees
- When wintry winds do blow!--
- As if with keenness for our fate,
- Our faltering few steps on
- To white rest, and a place of rest
- Invisible at dawn,--
- And yet with neither love nor hate,
- Those stars like some snow-white
- Minerva's snow-white marble eyes
- Without the gift of sight.
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| "Stars" is reprinted from A Boy's Will. Robert Frost. New York: Henry Holt & Co., 1915. |
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