When a friend calls to me from the road
And slows his horse to a meaning walk,
I don't stand still and look around
On all the hills I haven't hoed,
And shout from where I am, "What is it?"
No, not as there is time to talk.
I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground,
Blade-end up and five feet tall,
And plod: I go up to the stone wall
For a friendly visit.
"A Time to Talk" by Robert Frost, from Mountain Interval. © Henry Holt, 1916.
Photography credit: "Rusty Hoe Leaning Against Stone Masonry Wall," by unknown photographer (originally color).
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