A poem by American poet Robert Frost

Tree at my window, window tree,

　　My sash is lowered when night comes on;

　　But let there never be curtain drawn

　　Between you and me.

　　Vague dream-head lifted out of the ground,

　　And thing next most diffuse to cloud,

　　Not all your light tongues talking aloud

　　Could be profound.

　　But tree, I have seen you taken and tossed,

　　And if you have seen me when I slept,

　　You have seen me when I was taken and swept

　　And all but lost.

　　That day she put our heads together,

　　Fate had her imagination about her,

　　Your head so much concerned with outer,

　　Mine with inner, weather.Whose woods these are I think I know,

　　His house is in the village though.

　　He will not see me stopping here,

　　To watch his woods fill up with snow.

　　My little horse must think it queer,

　　To stop without a farmhouse near,

　　Between the woods and frozen lake,

　　The darkest evening of the year.

　　He gives his harness bells a shake,

　　To ask if there is some mistake.

　　The only other sound's the sweep,

　　Of easy wind and downy flake.

　　The woods are lovely, dark and deep,

　　But I have promises to keep,

　　And miles to go before I sleep,

　　And miles to go before I sleep.Two vagrants in the mud Flowers............................................. A piece of Chen xue.......................................... Resin collector............................................. Cranberry................................................... A bird....................................... The haunted house............................................. The small stream of the city.......................................... Attack................................................ To the warm wind....................................... Two vagrants in the mud........................... Flower boat................................................ In the Woodward garden In the garden of Woodward.................................... The star broke.......................................... In winter Eden................................................ Mountain............................................. Lose.......................................... Revenge............................................. Disappeared red....................................... A lonely strikers........................... Infinite moment An infinite moment....................................... Inspiration............................................. The person who sends bad news........................... Birch trees....................................... Sand dunes................................................ Place of birth............................................. Snow................................................ Telephone............................................. The pond of spring............................................. Principle............................................. Wild grape Wild grapes............................................. Harvest................................................ Mend the walls....................................... Fear............................................. Paul's wife................................. Brown went down the hill................................. Family cemetery....................................... Love and a question.................................... An old man's winter night........................... The witch of kass The fireflies in the garden.............................. Invest................................................ The outline of the door....................................... To a young bad guy........................... Firewood pile.......................................... A hundred collars....................................... The witch of kush.................................... An abandoned cemetery.............................. Hill wife....................................... The evening of sugar maple garden................................. Find water................................................ Rain frog creek The song of the storm....................................... Rain frog creek.......................................... The death of a hired man.................................... A stream that flows westward................................. Talk time....................................... Wasp............................................. Demographers.................................... Housekeeper.......................................... Two vagrants in the mud flowers The man in the dew of the morning once When I have cut the grass, I will go and burn it. Before seeing the flat view The dewdrops that cut the sharp blade of the sickle have dissipated. I went around the back of the woods and looked at him, In the wind he listened to the sound of his grindstone. But he left, and the grass was cut, And I should be like he was -- lonely, "It's all lonely," I said in my heart, "Whether they work together or not." As it was said, a puzzled butterfly By the wings of silence, Look with the vague memories of the night The still flower of yesterday's joy. When I look at its rotating flight, There the flowers withered on the ground. And then it flew away to my sight, Come back to me with trembling wings. I think about the unanswered question, To turn the grass and dry; It flew back first, taking my view To the tall flowers by the brook, The sickle was naked by the stream of reeds Do not hurt the words that the flowers jump.I got up and knew them by name, As soon as I arrived, I looked for them. Leave them in prosperity, not for us, So did the cutters in the dew, He hasn't attracted one of our ideas yet, Pure for the joy of the morning on the edge. I fell with the butterfly, However, information from dawn, Let me hear the birds that wake up around, And the whisper of his long sickle to the earth, I feel a soul close to myself, So I will no longer work alone; Happy with him, I have him as my helper in my work, Tired at noon, I went with him to look for the shade; As in a dream, talking like a brother, I didn't expect to communicate with him before. "People work together," I told him, "Whether they work together or not." A piece of Chen xue There is a piece of Chen xue in the corner I guess it would be One was driven by rain and wanted to be there A break from the newspaper. It has dirty spots like that Covered with small prints, One day's news I forgot -- If I had read it. Resin collector Catch me there and let me join him Together we marched down the hill, and in the morning we strode, The five miles I walked with It's much better than I can ride, He had a bag that was loaded and rocking Half of the bag wrapped around his hand. We walked along the noise of the water Talk like a cry. I told him where I had gone And where do you live in the mountains And now you're walking home, He told me something about him. He comes from the high, high mountain The new stream is rinsing there Pieces of stone split from the hill -- That looks desperate enough Because the weathering of rocks cannot be fertilized on grass. That's how it does moss. ) There he built a log cabin. It was a low log cabin Because of the fear of fire and destruction And often disturb the lumberjack's sleep: Half of the world in the dream was burnt black The sun shrank in the smoke and turned yellow. We know when someone comes to town I'll put the berries under the carriage seat, Or put a basket of eggs between their feet; The man was brought in a cotton bag It's resin, the resin of the mountain spruce. He showed me some fragmentary ingredients Like an unpolished gem, dull and rough. It comes to the market with golden brown; But it turns pink between teeth. I told him it was nice to live like this Place your chest on the bark Then your pessimism will be put down, And then I put out a knife, Loosen the resin and then harvest it When you're satisfied, take it to the market.