One of my wishes is that those dark trees, So old and firm they scarcely show the breeze, Were not, as ’twere, the merest mask of gloom, But stretch away unto the edge of doom. I should not be withheld but that some day Into their vastness I should steal away, Fearless of ever finding open land, Or highway where the slow wheel pours the sand. I do not see why I should e’er turn back, Or those should not set forth upon my track To overtake me, who should miss me here And long to know if still I held them dear. They would not find me changed from him they knew – Only more sure of all I thought was true.
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Text Authorship:
- by Robert Frost (1874 - 1963) [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Lowell Liebermann (b. 1961), "Into My Own", op. 104 no. 1 (2007) [ baritone and piano ], from Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening, no. 1 [sung text checked 1 time]
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
This text was added to the website: 2022-06-20
Line count: 14
Word count: 123