It was too lonely for her there,
And too wild,
And since there were but two of them,
And no child,
And work was little in the house,
She was free,
And followed where he furrowed field,
Or felled tree.
She rested on a log and tossed
The fresh chips,
With a song only to herself
On her lips.
And once she went to break a bough
Of black alder.
She strayed so far she scarcely heard
When he called her-
And didn't answer-didn't speak-
She stood, and then she ran and hid
In the fern.
He never found her, though he looked
And he asked at her mother's house
Was she there.
Sudden and swift and light as that
The ties gave,
And he learned of finalities
Besides the grave.
Robert Frost's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (The Impulse by Robert Frost )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley
Did you read them?
- A Fine Sight, Edgar Albert Guest
- World Famous Painting Haiku - Manet's A .., john tiong chunghoo
- At Your Own Risk, Eleanor Ross Taylor
- Awakening, Aqua Flower
- Like One Concussed, Eleanor Ross Taylor
- Find Me, Eleanor Ross Taylor
- The Diary, Eleanor Ross Taylor
- Departed Friends, Edgar Albert Guest
- Constant Beauty, Edgar Albert Guest
- Too Complete A Circle, RoseAnn V. Shawiak