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I had for my winter evening walk— No one at all with whom to talk, But I had the cottages in a row Up to their shining eyes in snow.
And I thought I had the folk within: I had the sound of a violin; I had a glimpse through curtain laces Of youthful forms and youthful faces.
I had such company outward bound. I went till there were no cottages found. I turned and repented, but coming back I saw no window but that was black.
Over the snow my creaking feet Disturbed the slumbering village street Like profanation, by your leave, At ten o'clock of a winter eve.
This poem is in the public domain.
About This Poem
"Good Hours" was published in North of Boston (Henry Holt and Company, 1914).
Robert Frost was born on March 26, 1874, in San Francisco. His collections of poetry include New Hampshire (Henry Holt and Company, 1923), Steeple Bush (Henry Holt and Company, 1947), and In the Clearing (Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1962). Frost won four Pulitzer Prizes during his lifetime and served as consultant in poetry to the Library of Congress from 1958 to 1959. He died on January 29, 1963.
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