Poem Robert Frost

Clear and Colder

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Wind the season-climate mixer

In my Witches’ Weather Primer

Says to make this Fall Elixir

First you let the summer simmer,

Using neither spoon nor skimmer,

 

Till about the right consistence.

(This like fate by stars is reckoned,

None remaining in existence

Under magnitude the second);

 

Then take some left-over winter

Far to north of the St. Lawrence.

Leaves to strip and branches splinter,

Bring on wind. Bring rain in torrents—

Colder than the season warrants.

 

Dash it with some snow for powder.

If this seems like witchcraft rather,

If this seems a witches’ chowder

(All my eye and Cotton Mather!),

 

Wait and watch the liquor settle.

I could stand whole dayfuls of it.

Wind she brews a heady kettle.

Human beings love it—love it.

Gods above are not above it.

Unharvested
After-Flakes

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