Explore "To Earthward" by Robert Frost on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Love at the lips was touch / As sweet as I could bear; / And once that seemed too much; / I lived on air / That crossed me from sweet things, / The flow of -- was it musk / From hidden grapevine springs / Down hill at dusk?
I had the swirl and ache / From sprays of honeysuckle / That when they're gathered shake / Dew on the knuckle.
I craved strong sweets, but those / Seemed strong when I was young; / The petal of the rose / It was that stung.
Now no joy but lacks salt / That is not dashed with pain / And weariness and fault; / I crave the stain / Of tears, the aftermark / Of almost too much love, / The sweet of bitter bark / And burning clove.
When stiff and sore and scarred / I take away my hand / From leaning on it hard / In grass and sand, / The hurt is not enough: / I long for weight and strength / To feel the earth as rough / To all my length.