On an evening stroll, my friend and I
Walked through woods a man to find
Below a dark November sky
And whistling a lullaby
Our footsteps hushed within the pines
We found him upon the trail’s crest,
Darkened, solemn, on his stone,
acquainted us to him as guests,
and soothed our nerves with quiet jests
We were glad to not be alone
Around us was a whispered roar
At odds with our quiet, tranquil eve
From the distant road and the generator
From nature and men at civil war
Yet at last that we disdained to perceive
The stars in that blue-black sky had gleamed
Which the pointed pines had deigned to frame
campus lights glowed, linear, schemed
The bell tower’s dome boasted golden sheen
Leaves turned white from the moon’s white flame
Cold, at my side, was the man we’d found
Who here had walked once long ago
He listened now without a sound
to our murmurings unbound
What he’d say we couldn’t know
Yet I had felt in that early eve
His youthful spirit’s quiet breath
From when he, like me, was young, unseen,
And wandered the woods, the books, the green
And found words for him to live past death
Tribute to Robert Frost