Out through the fields and the woods <br /> And over the walls I have wended; <br />I have climbed the hills of view <br /> And looked at the world, and descended; <br />I have come by the highway home, <br /> And lo, it is ended. <br /> <br />The leaves are all dead on the ground, <br /> Save those that the oak is keeping <br />To ravel them one by one <br /> And let them go scraping and creeping <br />Out over the crusted snow, <br /> When others are sleeping. <br /> <br />And the dead leaves lie huddled and still, <br /> No longer blown hither and thither; <br />The last long aster is gone; <br /> The flowers of the witch-hazel wither; <br />The heart is still aching to seek, <br /> But the feet question 'Whither?' <br /> <br />Ah, when to the heart of man <br /> Was it ever less than a treason <br />To go with the drift of things, <br /> To yield with a grace to reason, <br />And bow and accept the end <br /> Of a love or a season?<br /><br />Robert Lee Frost<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/reluctance-2/
