Robert Frost

(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963 / San Francisco)

The Hill Wife - Poem by Robert Frost

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 log.

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 -
Or return.
She stood, and then she ran and hid
In the fern.

He never found her, though he looked
Everywhere,
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.


Comments about The Hill Wife by Robert Frost

  • Tom Allport (12/21/2016 6:07:00 PM)

    tom allport
    it's not all fun and games living in the hills (Report) Reply

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • (10/4/2015 9:23:00 PM)


    .......very nicely penned...a sad write ★ (Report) Reply

  • Mark Arvizu (9/10/2015 9:51:00 AM)


    The single person need no one to entertain except themselves..... (Report) Reply

Read all 3 comments »



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Read poems about / on: house, lonely, work, child, song, mother, light, children, running



Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003

Poem Edited: Thursday, September 3, 2015


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