Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, WHEN THE SPEED COMES, by ROBERT FROST



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WHEN THE SPEED COMES, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: When the speed comes a-creeping overhead
Last Line: Upon the soul, still sore from yesterday.
Subject(s): Time


When the speed comes a-creeping overhead
And belts begin to snap and shafts to creak,
And the sound dies away of them that speak,
And on the glassy floor the tapping tread;
When dusty globes on all a pallor shed,
And breaths of many wheels are on the cheek;
Unwilling is the flesh, the spirit weak,
All effort like arising from the dead.

But the task ne'er could wait the mood to come;
The music of the iron is a law:
And as upon the heavy spools that pay
Their slow white thread, so ruthlessly the hum
Of countless whirling spindles seems to draw
Upon the soul, still sore from yesterday.





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