In whispers of the wind and rustling leaves,
Where paths diverge in yellow woods,
A poet’s heart finds solace and believes,
In nature’s quiet, eternal moods.

Through frosty nights and snowy trails,
His words paint scenes both bright and bleak,
With each verse, a story prevails,
Of life, of love, of mountain peaks.

The road less traveled by, he chose,
A symbol of courage, a beacon of light,
In every poem, his spirit grows,
Guiding us through the darkest night.

From “Stopping by Woods” to “Birches” tall,
Robert Frost’s legacy endures,
In every season, winter, spring, and fall,
His poetry forever lures.