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FROST, The Best Kind Of Pixie
From New England to the United States, Frost traveled abroad and his pen relates to each surrounding and its people’s qualm and each was written by this peeping Tom. Though obscure at times, he wrote what he felt `bout nature and man and wrongdoings dealt. While mulling through the sayings of Frost, I was humored by his theory of loss- sharpened like a knife on irony’s stone, he said, “the art of life is to pass your losses on, so, take care to sell your horse `fore he dies!” this was his view point on world enterprise. Of the same spirit, he loathed a free verse so he only wrote in the blank of verse with the rhythm of a ten-metered line and each had to end with a word of rhyme. Confirmed by others, collectively fused, Frost was none other - than- uniquely mused... `Tis believed by most, when placed side by side that man and nature tend to coincide. Yet, futile and vain was beheld this thought by the mind of one, poet - Robert Frost. ‘Contrasting’-- best said, man and nature were, and to probe within was best left deferred. But if one did hope for union on land Frost thought it would come by toils of the hand, so, one should accept harmony as is for it’s man’s best chance at natural bliss. And with such in mind, collections appear on a cloudless night when the sky is clear to coat blades of grass and windows of glass with the blends of day that’s condensed to mass like the mass of Frost, who silently darts from window to pane to quill his versed art. Did I say, “unique” or was that left out? Frost was an artist, a pixie, no doubt!
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