Each for himself must cleave a path alone,
And press his own way forward in the fight.
Smooth is the way to ease and calm delight,
And soft the road Sloth chooseth for her own...
[Paul Laurence Dunbar]
 |
| path in the back yard |
 |
| approaching the clearing |
 |
| Nels and his helpers: Ralph and Frank |
The Cabin in the Clearing
by Robert Frost
MIST:
I don't believe the sleepers in this house
know where they are.
SMOKE:
They've been here long enough
to push the woods back from around the house
and part them in the middle with a path.
MIST:
And still I doubt if they know where they are.
And I begin to fear they never will.
All they maintain the path for is the comfort
of visiting with the equally bewildered.
Nearer in plight their neighbors are than distance…
SMOKE:
They must by now have learned the native tongue.
Why don't they ask the Red Man where they are?
MIST:
They often do, and none the wiser for it.
So do they also ask philosophers
who come to look in on them from the pulpit.
They will ask anyone there is to ask -
in the fond faith accumulated fact
will of itself take fire and light the world up.
Learning has been a part of their religion.
SMOKE:
If the day ever comes when they know who
they are, they may know better where they are;
but who they are in too much to believe--
either for them or the onlooking world.
They are too sudden to be credible.
MIST:
Listen, they murmur talking in the dark
on what should be their daylong theme continued.
Putting the lamp out has not put their thought out.
Let us pretend the dewdrops from the eaves
are you and I eavesdropping on their unrest--
a mist and smoke eavesdropping on a haze--
and see if we can tell the bass from the soprano.
Then smoke and mist who better could appraise
the kindred spirit of an inner haze.
