Today marks the 50th anniversary of Robert Frost’s death. If you’re like me, he is the first poet you remember reading. Even as an adult, I still love his use of metric timing and rhyme. It’s charming and sweet, especially in a world dominated by free verse. Here’s a short poem of his that I think is perfect as winter starts to give way to spring.
A Patch of Old Snow
by Robert Frost
There’s a patch of old snow in a corner
That I should have guessed
Was a blow-away paper the rain
Had brought to rest.
It is speckled with grime as if
Small print overspread it,
The news of a day I’ve forgotten —
If I ever read it.