Robert Frost

(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963 / San Francisco)

Locked Out - Poem by Robert Frost

As told to a child


When we locked up the house at night,
We always locked the flowers outside
And cut them off from window light.
The time I dreamed the door was tried
And brushed with buttons upon sleeves,
The flowers were out there with the thieves.
Yet nobody molested them!
We did find one nasturtium
Upon the steps with bitten stem.
I may have been to blame for that:
I always thought it must have been
Some Hower I played with as I sat
At dusk to watch the moon down early.


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Poem Submitted: Friday, March 11, 2016



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