Amidst the woods so dark and deep,
Where Robert’s verses often leap.
The trails he chose, the roads less trod,
Whispered secrets of nature’s nod.

His words like frost on autumn leaves,
Captured moments that time retrieves.
A silent night, a snowy morn,
In every line, a tale reborn.

New England’s charm in every rhyme,
A poet’s soul transcending time.
With every choice, a life revealed,
In rustic scenes and fields unsealed.

So let us walk where Frost has been,
Through woods and fields so evergreen.
Embrace the paths that he once crossed,
In Robert’s world, we find we’re lost.