A poem by Robert Lee Frost

Inscription for a Garden Wall

Winds blow the open grassy places bleak;
But where this old wall burns a sunny cheek,
They eddy over it too toppling weak
To blow the earth or anything self-clear;
Moisture and color and odor thicken here.
The hours of daylight gather atmosphere.

Reader Comments

Tell us what you think of 'Atmosphere' by Robert Lee Frost

comments powered by Disqus