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“The Pasture” by Robert Frost 🇺🇸 (26 Mar 187429 Jan 1963)
I’m going out to clean the pasture spring;
I’ll only stop to rake the leaves away
(And wait to watch the water clear I may):
I shan’t be gone long.—You come too.
I’m going out to fetch the little calf
That’s standing by the mother. It’s so young
It totters when she licks it with her tongue.
I shan’t be gone long.—You come too.