I love Frost. I didnt know much about him until one day, in the wildnerness in Tasmania, we stopped for lunch. Written in marker on the toilet wall was this:

Dust of Snow
BY ROBERT FROST
The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree

Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.

All week those words rattled around my head, until I got home and hunted out a collection of his poetry. His brevity, the tensions between man and his landscape, blew me away. A few years later I got to teach him. Blessed.