Come In

Archive Poetry








As I came to the edge of the woods,

Thrush music — hark!
Now if it was dusk outside,
Inside it was dark.

Too dark in the woods for a bird
By sleight of wing
To better its perch for the night,
Though it still could sing.

The last of the light of the sun
That had died in the west
Still lived for one song more
In a thrush’s breast.

Far in the pillared dark
Thrush music went —
Almost like a call to come in
To the dark and lament.

But no, I was out for stars;
I would not come in.
I meant not even if asked;
And I hadn’t been.


–Robert Frost

1 thought on “Come In”

  1. Seems he knew he had been quietly, softly, gently asked in (asked by something uncertainly identified, something whispered), and then he used the lack of loudly direct invitation as his excuse for not going in.

    Seems clear he was saying that he was drawn in, and wanted to go, but was afraid, and was afraid to acknowledge his fear, and so he conjured a reason which he knew was untrue: “I hadn’t been asked in.”

    A tale of what light one misses by fearing a false danger in darkness (the unknown), a danger conjured by one’s imagination and by one’s perception of security under a blanket of stars.

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