How countlessly they congregate
O'er our tumultuous snow,
Which flows in shapes as tall as trees
When wintry winds do blow!-
As if with keenness for our fate,
Our faltering few steps on
To white rest, and a place of rest
Invisible at dawn,-
And yet with neither love nor hate,
Those stars like some snow-white
Minerva's snow-white marble eyes
Without the gift of sight.
Stars
Robert Frost
(3)
Poem topics: fate, hate, place, invisible, gift, dawn, love, I love you, snow, white, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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