Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, OUR CAMP; IN THE AUTUMN WOODS, by ROBERT FROST



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OUR CAMP; IN THE AUTUMN WOODS, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: In a haunt in the depths of the forest
Last Line: To strand on the sands of sleep.
Subject(s): Night; Bedtime


In a haunt in the depths of the forest,
Enshrined by a lonely wood lake,
With the trees bending over its waters
Where moon-crested ripples break, --

Where far down the long arching vistas,
The moon-beams all peacefully lie,
And the night wind that steals through the tree-tops,
Moans softly and lingers by: --

Here, oft in the midnight above me,
I watch a lone, hemlock-wreathed star;
Till over the sands of the silence,
Wave music comes swelling afar.

My mind is born on by the singing,
A rudderless craft on the deep;
And 'tis left by the ebbing waters,
To strand on the sands of sleep.





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