It was far in the sameness of the wood; <br />I was running with joy on the Demon’s trail, <br />Though I knew what I hunted was no true god. <br />It was just as the light was beginning to fail <br />That I suddenly heard—all I needed to hear: <br />It has lasted me many and many a year. <br /> <br />The sound was behind me instead of before, <br />A sleepy sound, but mocking half, <br />As of one who utterly couldn’t care. <br />The Demon arose from his wallow to laugh, <br />Brushing the dirt from his eye as he went; <br />And well I knew what the Demon meant. <br /> <br />I shall not forget how his laugh rang out. <br />I felt as a fool to have been so caught, <br />And checked my steps to make pretence <br />It was something among the leaves I sought <br />(Though doubtful whether he stayed to see). <br />Thereafter I sat me against a tree.<br /><br />Robert Frost<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-demiurge-s-laugh/
