Whispers in the Woods: An Ode to Robert Frost’s Nature

Poetry Image

In the quiet woods where whispers flow,
Among the trees where shadows grow,
The spirit of Frost dances free,
In nature’s realm, his poetry.

Leaves rustle with a gentle song,
As Frost’s verses glide along,
The brook’s laughter, the wind’s sigh,
Echo his words beneath the sky.

A snowy path, a tranquil night,
In moonlit fields, so pure and white,
Frost’s presence felt in every flake,
A silent vow, no hearts to break.

Through seasons’ change, his essence flies,
In autumn’s gold, in spring’s sunrise,
Robert Frost’s nature, timeless and true,
In every leaf, his spirit anew.

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