View source for Brown’s Descent or, the Willy-Nilly Slide

<meta
  author="Frost, Robert"
  year_of_publication="1920"
  additional_information=""
  genre="Poetry"
  publisher="Henry Holt and Company"
  journal="Selected Poems"
  page_range="132-135"
/>
<annotations>
<paragraph keywords="">
<poem>
</poem>
</paragraph>



<paragraph keywords="">
<poem>
Brown lived at such a lofty farm
That everyone for miles could see
His lantern when he did his chores
In winter after half-past three.
</poem>
</paragraph>


<paragraph keywords="">
<poem>
And many must have seen him make
His wild descent from there one night,
’Cross lots, ’cross walls, ’cross everything,
Describing rings of lantern light.
</poem>
</paragraph>


<paragraph keywords="">
<poem>
Between the house and barn the gale
Got him by something he had on
And blew him out on the icy crust
That cased the world, and he was gone!
</poem>
</paragraph>


<paragraph keywords="">
<poem>
Walls were all buried, trees were few:
He saw no stay unless he stove
A hole in somewhere with his heel.
But though repeatedly he strove
</poem>
</paragraph>


<paragraph keywords="">
<poem>
And stamped and said things to himself,
And sometimes something seemed to yield,
He gained no foothold, but pursued
His journey down from field to field.
</poem>
</paragraph>


<paragraph keywords="">
<poem>
Sometimes he came with arms outspread
Like wings, revolving in the scene
Upon his longer axis, and
With no small dignity of mien.
</poem>
</paragraph>


<paragraph keywords="">
<poem>
Faster or slower as he chanced,
Sitting or standing as he chose,
According as he feared to risk
His neck, or thought to spare his clothes,
</poem>
</paragraph>


<paragraph keywords="">
<poem>
He never let the lantern drop.
And some exclaimed who saw afar
The figures he described with it,
“I wonder what those signals are
</poem>
</paragraph>


<paragraph keywords="">
<poem>
Brown makes at such an hour of night!
He’s celebrating something strange.
I wonder if he’s sold his farm,
Or been made Master of the Grange.”
</poem>
</paragraph>


<paragraph keywords="">
<poem>
He reeled, he lurched, he bobbed, he checked;
He fell and made the lantern rattle
(But saved the light from going out.)
So half-way down he fought the battle
</poem>
</paragraph>


<paragraph keywords="">
<poem>
Incredulous of his own bad luck.
And then becoming reconciled
To everything, he gave it up
And came down like a coasting child.
</poem>
</paragraph>


<paragraph keywords="road, roadside, river, road condition, risk, safety">
<poem>
“Well—I—be——” that was all he said,
As standing in the river road,
He looked back up the slippery slope
(Two miles it was) to his abode.
</poem>
</paragraph>


<paragraph keywords="car">
<poem>
Sometimes as an authority
On motor-cars, I’m asked if I
Should say our stock was petered out,
And this is my sincere reply:
</poem>
</paragraph>


<paragraph keywords="car, metaphor">
<poem>
Yankees are what they always were.
Don’t think Brown ever gave up hope
Of getting home again because
He couldn’t climb that slippery slope;
</poem>
</paragraph>


<paragraph keywords="">
<poem>
Or even thought of standing there
Until the January thaw
Should take the polish off the crust.
He bowed with grace to natural law,
</poem>
</paragraph>


<paragraph keywords="">
<poem>
And then went round it on his feet,
After the manner of our stock;
Not much concerned for those to whom,
At that particular time o’clock,
</poem>
</paragraph>


<paragraph keywords="road, navigation, car, driving, driving skill ">
<poem>
It must have looked as if the course
He steered was really straight away
From that which he was headed for—
Not much concerned for them, I say.
</poem>
</paragraph>


<paragraph keywords="road, affect, navigation">
<poem>
But now he snapped his eyes three times;
Then shook his lantern, saying, “Ile’s
’Bout out!” and took the long way home
By road, a matter of several miles.
</poem>
</paragraph>



</annotations>