The Line-gang
Robert Frost
Here come the line-gang pioneering by, They throw a forest down less cut than broken. They plant dead trees for living, and the dead They string together with a living thread. They string an instrument against the sky Wherein words whether beaten out or spoken Will run as hushed as when they were a thought But in no hush they string it: they go past With shouts afar to pull the cable taught, To hold it hard until they make it fast, To ease away—they have it. With a laugh, An oath of towns that set the wild at naught They bring the telephone and telegraph.
Next 10 Poems
- Robert Frost : The Lockless Door
- Robert Frost : The Mountain
- Robert Frost : The Need Of Being Versed In Country Things
- Robert Frost : The Oven Bird
- Robert Frost : The Pasture
- Robert Frost : The Road Not Taken
- Robert Frost : The Rose Family
- Robert Frost : The Self-seeker
- Robert Frost : The Silken Tent
- Robert Frost : The Soldier
Previous 10 Poems
- Robert Frost : The Housekeeper
- Robert Frost : The Hill Wife
- Robert Frost : The Gum-gatherer
- Robert Frost : The Generations Of Men
- Robert Frost : The Flower Boat
- Robert Frost : The Fear
- Robert Frost : The Exposed Nest
- Robert Frost : The Egg And The Machine
- Robert Frost : The Demiurge's Laugh
- Robert Frost : The Death Of The Hired Man