Poem Robert Frost

A CLOUD SHADOW

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A breeze discovered my open book
And began to Hutter the leaves to look
For a poem there used to be on Spring
I tried to tell her ‘There’s no such thing’

For whom would a poem on Spring be by?
The breeze disdained to make reply;
And. a cloud shadow crossed her face
For fear I would make her miss the place.

The Quest of the Purple-Fringed
Willful Homing

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