Professor Mezey, I enjoyed the last two ones by Frost, but can't find either one in my (so-called) Complete Poetry of RF. Could the poem about one and zero have been the origin of "fuzzy math?"
And quite a selection of Francis's short poems, Mr. Murphy...FARM BOY AFTER SUMMER applies to even suburban September scholars.
But to leave New England for a bit, two shorties I like by Janet Lewis.
GIRL HELP
Mild and slow and young,
She moves about the room
And stirs the summer dust
With her wide broom.
In the warm, lofted air
Soft lips together pressed,
Soft wispy hair,
She stops to rest.
And stops to breathe,
Amid the summer hum,
The great white lilac bloom
Scented with days to come.
MUSIC AT A CONCERT
This is the many-mansioned, built in air,
The timelessly returning, built in time;
The only halls to which she may repair
Who long since passed beyond the reach of time.
Since she so loved this, ever I find her here
When men have laid their personal strife aside
That this impersonal grace may hold the air,
Whereby my loss is, for a time, denied.
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