Explore "The Runaway" by Robert Frost on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Once when the snow of the year was beginning to fall, / We stopped by a mountain pasture to say, "Whose colt?"
A little Morgan had one forefoot on the wall, / The other curled at his breast. He dipped his head / And snorted at us. And then he had to bolt.
We heard the miniature thunder where he fled, / And we saw him, or thought we saw him, dim and grey, / Like a shadow against the curtain of falling flakes.
"I think the little fellow's afraid of the snow.
He isn't winter-broken. It isn't play / With the little fellow at all. He's running away.
I doubt if even his mother could tell him, ‘Sakes, / It's only weather. ' He'd think she didn't know!
Where is his mother? He can't be out alone."
And now he comes again with clatter of stone, / And mounts the wall again with whited eyes / And all his tail that isn't hair up straight.
He shudders his coat as if to throw off flies.
"Whoever it is that leaves him out so late, / When other creatures have gone to stall and bin, / Ought to be told to come and take him in. "