North of Boston by Robert Frost

Author:Robert Frost
Language: eng
Format: mobi, azw3, epub, pdf
Tags: Poetry
Publisher: Book Depository
Published: 2008-12-14T18:30:00+00:00

The Housekeeper

I LET myself in at the kitchen door.

"It's you," she said. "I can't get up. Forgive me

Not answering your knock. I can no more

Let people in than I can keep them out.

I'm getting too old for my size, I tell them.

My fingers are about all I've the use of

So's to take any comfort. I can sew:

I help out with this beadwork what I can."

"That's a smart pair of pumps you're beading there.

Who are they for?"

"You mean?—oh, for some miss.

I can't keep track of other people's daughters.

Lord, if I were to dream of everyone

Whose shoes I primped to dance in!"

"And where's John?"

"Haven't you seen him? Strange what set you off

To come to his house when he's gone to yours.

You can't have passed each other. I know what:

He must have changed his mind and gone to Garlands.

He won't be long in that case. You can wait.

Though what good you can be, or anyone—

It's gone so far. You've heard? Estelle's run off."

"Yes, what's it all about? When did she go?"

"Two weeks since."

"She's in earnest, it appears."

"I'm sure she won't come back. She's hiding somewhere.

I don't know where myself. John thinks I do.

He thinks I only have to say the word,

And she'll come back. But, bless you, I'm her mother—

I can't talk to her, and, Lord, if I could!"

"It will go hard with John. What will he do?

He can't find anyone to take her place."

"Oh, if you ask me that, what will he do?

He gets some sort of bakeshop meals together,

With me to sit and tell him everything,

What's wanted and how much and where it is.

But when I'm gone—of course I can't stay here:

Estelle's to take me when she's settled down.

He and I only hinder one another.

I tell them they can't get me through the door, though:

I've been built in here like a big church organ.

We've been here fifteen years."

"That's a long time

To live together and then pull apart.

How do you see him living when you're gone?

Two of you out will leave an empty house."

"I don't just see him living many years,

Left here with nothing but the furniture.

I hate to think of the old place when we're gone,

With the brook going by below the yard,

And no one here but hens blowing about.

If he could sell the place, but then, he can't:

No one will ever live on it again.

It's too run down. This is the last of it.

What I think he will do, is let things smash.

He'll sort of swear the time away. He's awful!

I never saw a man let family troubles

Make so much difference in his man's affairs.

He's just dropped everything. He's like a child.

I blame his being brought up by his mother.

He's got hay down that's been rained on three times.

He hoed a little yesterday for me:

I thought the growing things would do him good.

Something went wrong. I saw him throw the hoe

Sky-high with both hands. I can see it now—

Come here—I'll show you—in that apple tree.

That's no way for a man to do at his age:

He's fifty-five, you know, if he's a day.

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