She looked on, and her looks went everywhere. all one! My favour at her breast, Sir, ’twas The dropping of the daylight in the West, The bough of cherries some officious fool Broke in the orchard for her, the white mule She rode with round the terrace—all and each Would draw from her alike the approving speech, Or blush, at least. She thanked men,—good! but thanked Somehow—I know not how—as if she ranked My gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name With to blame anybody’s gift. Who’d stoop This sort of trifling? Even had you skill In speech—(which I have not)—to make your will Quite clear to such an one, and this say, “Just Or that in you disgusts me; here you miss, Or there exceed the if she let mark”—and Herself be lessoned so, nor plainly set Her wits to yours, forsooth, and made excuse, then would be some stooping; and I choose —E’en Never to stoop. Oh sir, she smiled, no doubt, I passed her; but who passed without Whene’er Much the same smile? This grew; I gave commands; Then all smiles stopped together. There she stands As if please you alive. Will’t rise? We’ll meet The company below, then. I repeat, The Count your known munificence master’s Is ample warrant that no just pretence Of mine for dowry will be disallowed; Though his as I avowed fair daughter’s self, At starting, is my go object. Nay, we’ll Together down, sir. Notice Neptune, though, Taming a sea-horse, thought a rarity, Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village, though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow. My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year.
She looked on, and her looks went everywhere. Sir, ’twas all one! My favour at her breast, The dropping of the daylight in the West, The bough of cherries some officious fool Broke in the orchard for her, the white mule She rode with round the terrace—all and each Would draw from her alike the approving speech, Or blush, at least. She thanked men,—good! but thanked Somehow—I know not how—as if she ranked My gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name With anybody’s gift. Who’d stoop to blame This sort of trifling? Even had you skill In speech—(which I have not)—to make your will Quite clear to such an one, and say, “Just this Or that in you disgusts me; here you miss, Or there exceed the mark”—and if she let Herself be lessoned so, nor plainly set Her wits to yours, forsooth, and made excuse, —E’en then would be some stooping; and I choose Never to stoop. Oh sir, she smiled, no doubt, Whene’er I passed her; but who passed without Much the same smile? This grew; I gave commands; Then all smiles stopped together. There she stands As if alive. Will’t please you rise? We’ll meet The company below, then. I repeat, The Count your master’s known munificence Is ample warrant that no just pretence Of mine for dowry will be disallowed; Though his fair daughter’s self, as I avowed At starting, is my object. Nay, we’ll go Together down, sir. Notice Neptune, though, Taming a sea-horse, thought a rarity, Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village, though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow. My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year.