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<blockquote data-quote="Schmoe" data-source="post: 405230" data-attributes="member: 913">Two of my favoritesDesign Robert FrostI found a dimpled spider, fat and white,On a white heal-all, holding up a mothLike a white piece of rigid satin cloth—Assorted characters of death and blightMixed ready to begin the morning right,Like the ingredients of a witches' broth—A snow-drop spider, a flower like a froth,And dead wings carried like a paper kite.What had that flower to do with being white,The wayside blue and innocent heal-all?What brought the kindred spider to that height,Then steered the white moth thither in the night?What but design of darkness to appall?—If design govern in a thing so small.BereftRobert FrostWhere had I heard this wind beforeChange like this to a deeper roar?What would it take my standing there for,Holding open a restive door,Looking downhill to a frothy shore?Summer was past and day was past.Somber clouds in the west were massed.Out in the porch's sagging floorLeaves got up in a coil and hissed,Blindly struck at my knee and missed.Something sinister in the toneTold me my secret must be known:Word I was in the house aloneSomehow must have gotten abroad,Word I was in my life alone,Word I had no one left but God.</blockquote>

[QUOTE="Schmoe, post: 405230, member: 913"] [b]Two of my favorites[/b] [B]Design[/B] Robert Frost I found a dimpled spider, fat and white, On a white heal-all, holding up a moth Like a white piece of rigid satin cloth— Assorted characters of death and blight Mixed ready to begin the morning right, Like the ingredients of a witches' broth— A snow-drop spider, a flower like a froth, And dead wings carried like a paper kite. What had that flower to do with being white, The wayside blue and innocent heal-all? What brought the kindred spider to that height, Then steered the white moth thither in the night? What but design of darkness to appall?— If design govern in a thing so small. [B]Bereft[/B] Robert Frost Where had I heard this wind before Change like this to a deeper roar? What would it take my standing there for, Holding open a restive door, Looking downhill to a frothy shore? Summer was past and day was past. Somber clouds in the west were massed. Out in the porch's sagging floor Leaves got up in a coil and hissed, Blindly struck at my knee and missed. Something sinister in the tone Told me my secret must be known: Word I was in the house alone Somehow must have gotten abroad, Word I was in my life alone, Word I had no one left but God. [/QUOTE]

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