As I reach there my fingers itch for a click
The lens in hope zooms but soon turns sick
My disappointed mind depressingly broods
Where have gone Frost’s dark deep woods!
What my eyes see can be called at best
A skeletal green a parody of forest
Where my horse would shake head in doubt
Why I pause here it can’t make out!
I seriously wonder whose woods are these
For logs and timbers fell trees as they please
Not many are left in vision’s long range
No wonder my horse thinks it strange!
My heart shivers in the cold evening clime
In fear the forests would vanish in no time
There won’t be Frost’s woods dark and deep
For when they were going wisdom found us asleep!