Skip to content

Stephen Crane

I looked here;

I looked there;

Nowhere could I see my love.

And--this time--

Read full poem →

adjective

Telling the truth or giving a true result; exact; not defective or faulty

accurate knowledge

Know more →

ON A TREE FALLEN ACROSS THE ROAD

14 lines
Robert Frost·1874–1963
he tree the tempest with a crash of woodThrows down in front of us is not to barOur passage to our journey's end for good,But just to ask us who we think we are Insisting always on our own way so.She likes to halt us in our runner tracks,And make us get down in a foot of snowDebating what to do without an axe. And yet she knows obstruction is in vain:We will not be put off the final goalWe have it hidden in us to attain,Not though we have to seize earth by the pole And, tired of aimless circling in one place,Steer straight off after something into space.