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Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers to-day;
And give us not to think so far away
As the uncertain harvest; keep us here
All simply in the springing of the year.
Oh, give us pleasure in the orchard white,
Like nothing else by day, like ghosts by night;
And make us happy in the happy bees,
The swarm dilating round the perfect trees.
And make us happy in the darting bird
That suddenly above the bees is heard,
The meteor that thrusts in with needle bill,
And off a blossom in mid air stands still.
For this is love and nothing else is love,
The which it is reserved for You above
To sanctify to what far ends You will,
But which it only needs that we fulfil.
Robert Frost (1874-1963) was a four-time Pulitzer Prize winning American poet of popular and frequently-quoted poems. He spent his adult life in New England, working as a teacher and a farmer. His first book of poems was published in England in 1913. He soon became a sought-after lecturer and poet. Some of his more famous works include “Birches,” “The Road Not Taken” and “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.”
