SHIRLEY GRIFFITH:

Something there is that doesn't love a wall,

That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it

And spills the upper boulders in the sun,

And makes gaps even two can pass abreast…

No one has seen them made or heard them made,

But at spring mending-time we find them there.

I let my neighbor know beyond the hill;

And on a day we meet to walk the line

And set the wall between us once again.

We keep the wall between us as we go.

FAITH LAPIDUS: The speaker questions his neighbor who says: "Good fences make good neighbors. " The speaker says:

SHIRLEY GRIFFITH:

Before I built a wall I'd ask to know

What I was walling in or walling out,

And to whom I was like to give offense.

As he grew older, Robert Frost's idea of the world became more difficult

STEVE EMBER: Robert Frost's later poetry shows little change or development from his earlier writing. It confirms what he had established in such early books as “North of Boston.” For example, a poem called "Birches," written in nineteen sixteen begins:

SHIRLEY GRIFFITH:

When I see birches bend to left and right

Across the lines of straighter darker trees,

I like to think some boy's been swinging them.

But swinging doesn't bend them down to stay