Explore "Looking for a Sunset Bird in Winter" by Robert Frost on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The west was getting out of gold, / The breath of air had died of cold, / When shoeing home across the white, / I thought I saw a bird alight.
In summer when I passed the place / I had to stop and lift my face; / A bird with an angelic gift / Was singing in it sweet and swift.
No bird was singing in it now.
A single leaf was on a bough, / And that was all there was to see / In going twice around the tree.
From my advantage on a hill / I judged that such a crystal chill / Was only adding frost to snow / As gilt to gold that wouldn't show.
A brush had left a crooked stroke / Of what was either cloud or smoke / From north to south across the blue; / A piercing little star was through.