Poems for Peace
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Looking For a Sunset Bird in Winter | Poem by Robert Frost

The west was getting out of gold,
The breath of air had died of cold,
When shoeing home across the white,
I thought I saw a bird alight.


In summer when I passed the place
I had to stop and lift my face;
A bird with an angelic gift
Was singing in it sweet and swift.


No bird was singing in it now.

A single leaf was on a bough,
And that was all there was to see
In going twice around the tree.


From my advantage on a hill
I judged that such a crystal chill
Was only adding frost to snow
As gilt to gold that wouldn't show.


A brush had left a crooked stroke
Of what was either cloud or smoke
From north to south across the blue;
A piercing little star was through.


Robert Frost - Poet | Academy of American Poets
Robert Frost - Wikipedia
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