North of Boston

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H. Holt, 1917 - 127 pages

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Page 7 - The Pasture I'm going out to clean the pasture spring; I'll only stop to rake the leaves away (And wait to watch the water clear, I may): I shan't be gone long. — You come too. I'm going out to fetch the little calf That's standing by the mother. It's so young, It totters when she licks it with her tongue. I sha'n't be gone long. — You come too.
Page 11 - MENDING WALL Something there is that doesn't love a wall, That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it And spills the upper boulders in the sun, And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.
Page 20 - Yes, what else but home? It all depends on what you mean by home. Of course he's nothing to us, any more Than was the hound that came a stranger to us Out of the woods, worn out upon the trail." "Home is the place where, when you have to go there, They have to take you in.
Page 21 - No, but he hurt my heart the way he lay And rolled his old head on that sharp-edged chair-back. He wouldn't let me put him on the lounge. You must go in and see what you can do. I made the bed up for him there to-night. You'll be surprised at him — how much he's broken. His working days are done; I'm sure of it." " I'd not be in a hurry to say that.
Page 46 - I'm not so much Unlike other folks as your standing there Apart would make me out. Give me my chance. I do think, though, you overdo it a little. What was it brought you up to think it the thing To take your mother-loss of a first child So inconsolably — in the face of love. You'd think his memory might be satisfied " " There you go sneering now !
Page 49 - There, you have said it all and you feel better. You won't go now. You're crying. Close the door. The heart's gone out of it: why keep it up. Amy! There's someone coming down the road!
Page 44 - The wonder is I didn't see at once. I never noticed it from here before. I must be wonted to it— that's the reason. The little graveyard where my people are! So small the window frames the whole of it. Not so much larger than a bedroom, is it?
Page 134 - He went behind it to make his last stand. It was a cord of maple, cut and split And piled — and measured, four by four by eight. And not another like it could I see. No runner tracks in this year's snow looped near it. And it was older sure than this year's cutting, Or even last year's or the year's before. The wood was grey and the bark warping off it, And the pile somewhat sunken.
Page 12 - Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder If I could put a notion in his head: "Why do they make good neighbors? Isn't it Where there are cows? But here there are no cows. Before I built a wall I'd ask to know What I was walling in or walling out, And to whom I was like to give offence. Something there is that doesn't love a wall, That wants it down.
Page 48 - I can repeat the very words you were saying. 'Three foggy mornings and one rainy day Will rot the best birch fence a man can build.

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