Robert Frost Poetry

THE PASTURE

I’M going out to clean the pasture spring;
I’ll only stop to rake the leaves away
(And wait to watch the water clear, I may):
I sha’n’t be gone long.—You come too.

I’m going out to fetch the little calf
That’s standing by the mother.
It’s so young,It totters when she
licks it with her tongue.
I sha’n’t be gone long.—You come too.

Robert Frost (1874–1963)