Mountain Interval by Robert Frost (e ink ebook reader .txt) đ
- Author: Robert Frost
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What happens to him if it only takes
Some of the sanctimonious conceit
Out of one of those pious scalawags.â
âNonsense to that! You want to see him safe.â
âYou like the runt.â
âDonât you a little?â
65
âWell,
I donât like what heâs doing, which is what
You like, and like him for.â
âOh, yes you do.
You like your fun as well as anyone;
Only you women have to put these airs on
To impress men. Youâve got us so ashamed
Of being men we canât look at a good fight
Between two boys and not feel bound to stop it.
Let the man freeze an ear or two, I say.ââ
Heâs here. I leave him all to you. Go in
And save his life.ââAll right, come in, Meserve.
Sit down, sit down. How did you find the horses?â
âFine, fine.â
âAnd ready for some more? My wife here
Says it wonât do. Youâve got to give it up.â
âWonât you to please me? Please! If I say please?
Mr. Meserve, Iâll leave it to your wife.
What did your wife say on the telephone?â
Meserve seemed to heed nothing but the lamp
Or something not far from it on the table.
By straightening out and lifting a forefinger,
He pointed with his hand from where it lay
Like a white crumpled spider on his knee:
âThat leaf there in your open book! It moved
Just then, I thought. Itâs stood erect like that,
There on the table, ever since I came,
Trying to turn itself backward or forward,
Iâve had my eye on it to make out which;
If forward, then itâs with a friendâs impatienceââ
66You see I knowââto get you on to things
It wants to see how you will take, if backward
Itâs from regret for something you have passed
And failed to see the good of. Never mind,
Things must expect to come in front of us
A many timesââI donât say just how manyââ
That varies with the thingsââbefore we see them.
One of the lies would make it out that nothing
Ever presents itself before us twice.
Where would we be at last if that were so?
Our very life depends on everythingâs
Recurring till we answer from within.
The thousandth time may prove the charm.ââThat leaf!
It canât turn either way. It needs the windâs help.
But the wind didnât move it if it moved.
It moved itself. The windâs at naught in here.
It couldnât stir so sensitively poised
A thing as that. It couldnât reach the lamp
To get a puff of black smoke from the flame,
Or blow a rumple in the collieâs coat.
You make a little foursquare block of air,
Quiet and light and warm, in spite of all
The illimitable dark and cold and storm,
And by so doing give these three, lamp, dog,
And book-leaf, that keep near you, their repose;
Though for all anyone can tell, repose
May be the thing you havenât, yet you give it.
So false it is that what we havenât we canât give;
So false, that what we always say is true.
Iâll have to turn the leaf if no one else will.
It wonât lie down. Then let it stand. Who cares?â
âI shouldnât want to hurry you, Meserve,
But if youâre goingââSay youâll stay, you know?
But let me raise this curtain on a scene,
67And show you how itâs piling up against you.
You see the snow-white through the white of frost?
Ask Helen how far up the sash itâs climbed
Since last we read the gage.â
âIt looks as if
Some pallid thing had squashed its features flat
And its eyes shut with overeagerness
To see what people found so interesting
In one another, and had gone to sleep
Of its own stupid lack of understanding,
Or broken its white neck of mushroom stuff
Short off, and died against the window-pane.â
âBrother Meserve, take care, youâll scare yourself
More than you will us with such nightmare talk.
Itâs you it matters to, because itâs you
Who have to go out into it alone.â
âLet him talk, Helen, and perhaps heâll stay.â
âBefore you drop the curtainââIâm reminded:
You recollect the boy who came out here
To breathe the air one winterââhad a room
Down at the Averysâ? Well, one sunny morning
After a downy storm, he passed our place
And found me banking up the house with snow.
And I was burrowing in deep for warmth,
Piling it well above the window-sills.
The snow against the window caught his eye.
âHey, thatâs a pretty thoughtâââthose were his words.
âSo you can think itâs six feet deep outside,
While you sit warm and read up balanced rations.
You canât get too much winter in the winter.â
Those were his words. And he went home and all
68But banked the daylight out of Averyâs windows.
Now you and I would go to no such length.
At the same time you canât deny it makes
It not a mite worse, sitting here, we three,
Playing our fancy, to have the snowline run
So high across the pane outside. There where
There is a sort of tunnel in the frost
More like a tunnel than a holeââway down
At the far end of it you see a stir
And quiver like the frayed edge of the drift
Blown in the wind. I like thatââI like that.
Well, now I leave you, people.â
âCome, Meserve,
We thought you were deciding not to goââ
The ways you found to say the praise of comfort
And being where you are. You want to stay.â
âIâll own itâs cold for such a fall of snow.
This house is frozen brittle, all except
This room you sit in. If you think the wind
Sounds further off, itâs not because itâs dying;
Youâre further under in the snowââthatâs allââ
And feel it less. Hear the soft bombs of dust
It bursts against us at the chimney mouth,
And at the eaves. I like it from inside
More than I shall out in it. But the horses
Are rested and itâs time to say good-night,
And let you get to bed again. Good-night,
Sorry I had to break in on your sleep.â
âLucky for you you did. Lucky for you
You had us for a half-way station
To stop at. If you were the kind of man
Paid heed to women, youâd take my advice
And for your familyâs sake stay where you are.
69But what good is my saying it over and over?
Youâve done more than you had a right to think
You could doâânow. You know the risk you take
In going on.â
âOur snow-storms as a rule
Arenât looked on as man-killers, and although
Iâd rather be the beast that sleeps the sleep
Under it all, his door sealed up and lost,
Than the man fighting it to keep above it,
Yet think of the small birds at roost and not
In nests. Shall I be counted less than they are?
Their bulk in water would be frozen rock
In no time out to-night. And yet to-morrow
They will come budding boughs from tree to tree
Flirting their wings and saying Chickadee,
As if not knowing what you meant by the word storm.â
âBut why when no one wants you to go on?
Your wifeââshe doesnât want you to. We donât,
And you yourself donât want to. Who else is there?â
âSave us from being cornered by a woman.
Well, thereâsâââShe told Fred afterward that in
The pause right there, she thought the dreaded word
Was coming, âGod.â But no, he only said
âWell, thereâsââthe storm. That says I must go on.
That wants me as a war might if it came.
Ask any man.â
He threw her that as something
To last her till he got outside the door.
He had Cole with him to the barn to see him off.
When Cole returned he found his wife still standing
Beside the table near the open book,
Not reading it.
70
âWell, what kind of a man
Do you call that?â she said.
âHe had the gift
Of words, or is it tongues, I ought to say?â
âWas ever such a man for seeing likeness?â
âOr disregarding peopleâs civil questionsââ
What? Weâve found out in one hour more about him
Than we had seeing him pass by in the road
A thousand times. If thatâs the way he preaches!
You didnât think youâd keep him after all.
Oh, Iâm not blaming you. He didnât leave you
Much say in the matter, and Iâm just as glad
Weâre not in for a night of him. No sleep
If he had stayed. The least thing set him going.
Itâs quiet as an empty church without him.â
âBut how much better off are we as it is?
Weâll have to sit here till we know heâs safe.â
âYes, I suppose youâll want to, but I shouldnât.
He knows what he can do, or he wouldnât try.
Get into bed I say, and get some rest.
He wonât come back, and if he telephones,
It wonât be for an hour or two.â
âWell then.
We canât be any help by sitting here
And living his fight through with him, I suppose.â
Cole had been telephoning in the dark.
71Mrs. Coleâs voice came from an inner room:
âDid she call you or you call her?â
âShe me.
Youâd better dress: you wonât go back to bed.
We must have been asleep: itâs three and after.â
âHad she been ringing long? Iâll get my wrapper.
I want to speak to her.â
âAll she said was,
He hadnât come and had he really started.â
âShe knew he had, poor thing, two hours ago.â
âHe had the shovel. Heâll have made a fight.â
âWhy did I ever let him leave this house!â
âDonât begin that. You did the best you could
To keep himââthough perhaps you didnât quite
Conceal a wish to see him show the spunk
To disobey you. Much his wifeâll thank you.â
âFred, after all I said! You shanât make out
That it was any way but what it was.
Did she let on by any word she said
She didnât thank me?â
âWhen I told her âGone,â
âWell then,â she said, and âWell thenâââlike a threat.
And then her voice came scraping slow: âOh, you,
Why did you let him goâ?â
âAsked why we let him?
You let me there. Iâll ask her why she let him.
She didnât dare to speak when he was here.
72Their numberâsââtwenty-one? The thing wonât work.
Someoneâs receiverâs down. The handle stumbles.
The stubborn thing, the way it jars your arm!
Itâs theirs. Sheâs dropped it from her hand and gone.â
âTry speaking. Say âHelloâ!â
âHello. Hello.â
âWhat do you hear?â
âI hear an empty roomââ
You knowââit sounds that way. And yes, I hearââ
I think I hear a clockââand windows rattling.
No step though. If sheâs there sheâs sitting down.â
âShout, she may hear you.â
âShouting is no good.â
âKeep speaking then.â
âHello. Hello. Hello.
You donât supposeââ? She wouldnât go out doors?â
âIâm half afraid thatâs just what she might do.â
âAnd leave the children?â
âWait and call again.
You canât hear whether she has left the door
Wide open and the windâs blown out the lamp
And the fireâs died and the roomâs dark and cold?â
73
âOne of two
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