Something thither is that doesnt love a environ,
That sends the frozen-ground-swell beneath it
And spills the upper boulders in the sun,
And declares gaps even two can pass abreast.
The work of hunters is some other thing: Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â 5
I get hold of come after them and made repair
Where they use up left not one stone on a stone,
But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,
To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,
No one has seen them made or heard them made, Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â 10
But at saltation mending-time we find them there.
I let my neighbor know beyond the pitcher;
And on a day we meet to walk the line
And develop the seawall between us once again.
We keep the wall between us as we go. Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â 15
To each the boulders that have fall to each.
And some are loaves and some so nearly balls
We have to use a spell to make them balance:
baulk where you are until our backs are turned!
We wear our fingers rough with use them. Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â 20
Oh, just another kind of outdoor game,
One on a side. It comes to little more:
There where it is we do not need the wall:
He is all pine and I am apple orchard.
My apple trees will never get across                         25
And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.
He only says, Good fences make bang-up neighbors.
Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder
If I could put a notion in his head:
Why do they make good neighbors? Isnt it         30
Where there are cows? But here there are no cows.
Before I built a wall Id ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to...
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