(Robert Frost by Fred Palumbo, World Telegram
Staff Reporter- Library of Congress, NY- Telegram
and Sun Collection.)
Two views diverged on what really took place.
I attempted to see each perspective
and tried not to mind if I lost face
and, though my friends told me not to abase
myself, I did so, in retrospective.
I felt we were lost in a foggy wood
and could not see it for looking at trees.
I endeavoured not to use the word ‘should’;
I projected myself into your mood,
but had no access, as you held the keys.
I wanted to walk down that path with you,
but, when I stretched out my hand, you had gone
and brambles and thorns restricted my view.
Pushing on, my clothing soaked with the dew,
thick darkness did not disperse with the dawn.
I’m telling this now because, with a sigh,
we may look back on our past position
and wonder how we could let ourselves die
and cover our ears to the other’s cry,
harbouring pain; stifling contrition.
Two views diverge on what really took place.
Whatever occurred, it was all so slight
and only the chance to display some grace
would have shown us the exit from the maze.
We are both lost because neither was right.