On Raglan Road on an autumn day I saw her first and knew
That her dark hair would weave a snare that I might one day rue;
I saw the danger, yet I passed along the enchanted way,
And I said, let grief be a fallen leaf at the dawning of the day.
On Grafton Street in November we tripped lightly along the ledge
Of the deep ravine where can be seen the worth of passion’s pledge,
The Queen of Hearts still making tarts and I not making hay -
Oh I loved too much and by such by such is happiness thrown away.
I gave her gifts of the mind I gave her the secret sign that’s known
To the artists who have known the true gods of sound and stone
And word and tint without stint for I gave her poems to say.
With her own name there and her own dark hair like clouds over fields of May
On a quiet street where old ghosts meet I see her walking now
Away from me so hurriedly my reason must allow
That I had loved not as I should a creature made of clay -
When the angel woos the clay he’d lose his wings at the dawn of day.
Sam Walter Foss was a New England librarian and poet. He was born on June 19, 1858 in New Hampshire, went to college in Rhode Island and served as librarian for the Somerville Public Library in Massachusetts beginning in 1898. His most famous poem was The House by The Side of the Road.
There are some really good articles online about him, such as Minor Poet with a Major Message, with some examples of his poetry.
“In another poem, Foss plays the part of a storeowner who tries to join the local church, because he knows that is the best way to attract customers. Unwilling to have him as a member, the church elders stall the merchant by telling him to go off and talk to God. But the merchant returns a few weeks later and tells the shocked elders that he has, indeed, talked to God about joining their church. What did the Lord say? – they ask. The shopkeeper repeats the conversation:
“I’m trying to git in,” sez I, “to the church of Elder Ford,
An they won’t let me in at all.” “Don’t worry,” sez the Lord.
“You’re not the only one,” sez He, “they’ve laid upon the shelf.
I’ve tried ten years without success to git in there myself,”
That’s painfully funny, and it also reminds me of another poem my grandfather told me once that I’ll have to go hunt up. But to stay on point for now – it’s true Foss’ books are out of print, but some of them are now available on google books. That’s where I found this poem: Read the rest of this entry »
Wikipedia used to have a lot more information on “The Road Not Taken” but, evidently, there was quite a bit of vandalism, and they deleted it all. Someone came in and replaced the whole page with the phrase “Reed Ryan has no balls.” Another person keeps adding the clause ‘tells how much I love you’ after the words ‘the poem’ Someone else creatively added:
“During a trip to the Rocky Mountains, his hiking guide, Mr. Handstein, misread his compass and walked 200 miles off course. Frost was saved by Jordyn Fisher, a local backpacking expert who happened to pass by him while riding her domesticated wombat. Frost was forever grateful, and thus the poem was dedicated to her as a sign of gratitude.” Read the rest of this entry »
