A Patch Of Old Snow Poem by Robert Frost

A sketch of a misplaced impression.What appears as snow is in fact a piece of newsprint overlaid with grime. Like today's news, it too will soon pass into nothingness.Shades here of a far greater Frost poem: Nature's first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf's a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief; So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay.

Andrew, you misunderstood! It really IS old snow, flecked with bits of blown dirt to make it /look/ like an old newspaper. He should have guessed is a turn of phrase common in early 20th C speech. The last two lines remind me of when I was a child: NO fresh patch of snow could be left unsquashed; but if you did miss some it would become 'dirty snow', as speckled as described. To Frost, that news is a day forgotten or unread; possibly: a regret that he didn't play in the snow. (wink)

I think it's an old newspaper. The poem is about the inconsequentiality of news, which we read eagerly only if it is current. 'Who wants yesterday's paper? ' is a Rolling Stones song which comments on the same topic (and on others) .

Yes, what is news for today that has no perpetual value as the time moves on so the poet has forgotten its significance how a piece of snow retreats...wont it pass to nothingness: It is speckled with grime as if small print overspread it...there lies the point of speculation.

Excellent.

The news of a day I've forgotten - If I ever read it. /// all news would be forgotten if you would be mine

i shidded and farded and camed in the macaroni salad

The birds are chirping, the flowers are blooming, i said im already tracer so, .. play some fortnite. Wellllll i think your a spoiled brat