And lo, it is ended.
. . . . . . .
Ah, when to the heart of man
Was it ever less than a treason
To go with the drift of things,
To yield with a grace to reason,
And bow and accept the end
Of a love or a season?
This book does not represent the work of Frost as it appears in his later volumes, but it does represent the poet himself:
A lover of the meadows and the woods,