In quiet woods where shadows rest,
Robert Frost walks paths untold,
His words, a whisper on the breeze,
In nature’s arms, his stories hold.

The gentle rustle of fallen leaves,
Echoes softly where he once tread,
The world still hears his gentle voice,
In every poem, in every thread.

Beneath the stars, his spirit roams,
Through fields of dreams and endless night,
A lantern guiding those who seek,
The wisdom in his words so bright.

Though silence claims the poet’s breath,
His legacy, a timeless art,
In every line, in every verse,
Robert Frost lives within the heart.