In the quiet woods where Frost once roamed,
Love’s tender whispers softly combed,
Through leaves of gold and skies so blue,
A timeless tale in morning dew.

Amidst the paths he often tread,
Where thoughts of love and nature wed,
The heart of Frost, in silent muse,
Found solace in the twilight hues.

The echoes of his gentle verse,
In every line, emotions immerse,
A dance of words, a lover’s quest,
In Frost’s embrace, the soul finds rest.

Through snowy fields and summer’s blaze,
His love for words, a lasting praise,
In every season, love remains,
A testament in Frost’s refrains.