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Robert Frost - The Impulse
Work rating: Medium

It was too lonely for her there,
            And too wild,
            And since there were but two of them,
            And no child,
             
            And work was little in the house,
            She was free,
            And followed where he furrowed field,
            Or felled tree.
             
            She rested on a log and tossed
            The fresh chips,
            With a song only to herself
            On her lips.
             
            And once she went to break a bough
            Of black alder.
            She strayed so far she scarcely heard
            When he called her—
             
            And didn`t answer—didn`t speak—
            Or return.
            She stood, and then she ran and hid
            In the fern.
             
            He never found her, though he looked
            Everywhere,
            And he asked at her mother`s house
            Was she there.
             
            Sudden and swift and light as that
            The ties gave,
            And he learned of finalities
            Besides the grave.
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