By Robert Frost
All out-of-doors looked darkly in at him
Through the thin frost, almost in separate stars,
That gathers on the pane in empty rooms.
What kept his eyes from giving back the gaze
Was the lamp tilted near them in his hand.
What kept him from remembering what it was
That brought him to that creaking room was age.
He stood with barrels round him—at a loss.
And having scared the cellar under him
In clomping there, he scared it once again
In clomping off;—and scared the outer night,
Which has its sounds, familiar, like the roar
Of trees and crack of branches, common things,
But nothing so like beating on a box.
A light he was to no one but himself
Where now he sat, concerned with he knew what,
A quiet light, and then not even that.
He consigned to the moon—such as she was,
So late-arising—to the broken moon
As better than the sun in any case
For such a charge, his snow upon the roof,
His icicles along the wall to keep;
And slept. The log that shifted with a jolt
Once in the stove, disturbed him and he shifted,
And eased his heavy breathing, but still slept.
One aged man—one man—can't keep a house,
A farm, a countryside, or if he can,
It's thus he does it of a winter night.
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I got to spend Monday with Cheryl just hanging out locally for the first time in a while, which was awesome for such a rainy, chilly day (Tuesday is supposed to be dryer but ridiculously cold for November, sigh). We went out for Indian food, then went to Washington Hebrew's holiday boutique, where we hung out with my mom who was volunteering, looked at lots of jewelry and accessories, and bumped into several people whom I've known for half my life.
Then we came back to my house to watch Sharpe's Enemy and Sharpe's Honour, since we'd put off watching the former till we also had time to watch the latter since the former has a very sad ending. We also watched a few Shoujo Cosette episodes -- she's a grownup now but still has saucer eyes! After Cheryl had to go home, Paul and I had dinner, talked Facebook with his father, and watched Sleepy Hollow which as always has awesome women. Harpers Ferry:
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