Brown’s Descent Robert Frost

Brown lived at such a lofty farm
        That everyone for miles could see
His lantern when he did his chores
        In winter after half-past three.

And many must have seen him make
        His wild descent from there one night,
’Cross lots, ’cross walls, ’cross everything,
        Describing rings of lantern light.

Between the house and barn the gale
        Got him by something he had on
And blew him out on the icy crust
        That cased the world, and he was gone!

Walls were all buried, trees were few:
        He saw no stay unless he stove
A hole in somewhere with his heel.
        But though repeatedly he strove

And stamped and said things to himself,
        And sometimes something seemed to yield,
He gained no foothold, but pursued
        His journey down from field to field.

Sometimes he came with arms outspread
        Like wings, revolving in the scene
Upon his longer axis, and
        With no small dignity of mien.