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    Robert Frost - The Pasture

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    poetictouch

    by poetictouch

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    Robert Frost reads his poem The Pasture

    The Pasture
    by Robert Frost (1874-1963)

    I'm going out to clean the pasture spring;
    I'll only stop to rake the leaves away
    (And wait to watch the water clear, I may):
    I shan't be gone long. — You come too.

    I'm going out to fetch the little calf
    That's standing by the mother. It's so young,
    It totters when she licks it with her tongue.
    I shan't be gone long. — You come too.