Frost (at Midnight)

The bard a boy amid that empty space,
Eclectic in his learning like the world would be,
Ever fearful of some failure or disgrace,
He paced this earth like his dad in foot race
And took his knocks to heart uncomfortably.

He would outlive the lumbering age, survive
The shame, but never lose the shyness nor
Forget his mother's dreams. How else contrive
attitudes, explain away the pallor
That pride alone could route, he hoped with valor.

So mournfully recall the late great bard
In verses that might please him as I write
Deep into the netherworld of night,
So learn anew the lessons he found hard
And ponder with what courage he stood guard.

Jay Cohen