As far as I can see this autumn haze <br />That spreading in the evening air both way, <br />Makes the new moon look anything but new, <br />And pours the elm-tree meadow full of blue, <br />Is all the smoke from one poor house alone <br />With but one chimney it can call its own; <br />So close it will not light an early light, <br />Keeping its life so close and out of sign <br />No one for hours has set a foot outdoors <br />So much as to take care of evening chores. <br />The inmates may be lonely women-folk. <br />I want to tell them that with all this smoke <br />They prudently are spinning their cocoon <br />And anchoring it to an earth and moon <br />From which no winter gale can hope to blow it,-- <br />Spinning their own cocoon did they but know it.<br /><br />Robert Lee Frost<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/cocoon-the/
