The Most of It
Robert Frost
He thought he kept the universe alone
For all the voice in awner he could wake
Was but the mocking echoe of his own
From some tree hidden cliff across the lake
Some morning from the boulder broken beach
He would cry out on life, that what it wants
Is not its own love, original response
And nothing ever came of what he cried
Unless it was the embodiment that crashed
In the cliffs talus on the other side
And then in the far distant water splashed
But after time allowed for it to swim
INstead of proving human when it neared
And someone else additional to him
As a great buck it powerfully appeared
Pushinf the crumpled water up ahead
And landed pouring like a water fall
And stumbled throuh the rocks with horny tread
And forced the underbrush-and that was all