The Oft-Repeated Dream


She had no saying dark enough

For the dark pine that kept

Forever trying the window latch

Of the room where they slept.


The tireless but ineffectual hands

That with every futile pass

Made the great tree seem as a little bird

Before the mystery of glass!


It never had been inside the room,

And only one of the two

Was afraid in an oft-repeated dream

Of what the tree might do.


Robert Frost


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