When a friend calls to me from the road
And slows his horse to a meaning walk,
I don’t stand still and look around
On all the hills I haven’t hoed,
And shout from where I am, What is it?
No, not as there is a time to talk.
I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground,
Blade-end up and five feet tall,
And plod: I go up to the stone wall
For a friendly visit.
—
Robert Frost, “A Time to Talk”
Robert Frost, “A Time to Talk”
joe larson
on 28 Oct 11Robert Frost, ninja poet! Love the sentiment and the fact this is posted on SVN!
Mike Guren
on 28 Oct 11Communicating through Facebook and twitter is analogous to NOT going up to the stone wall for a talk.
JD
on 28 Oct 11LOVELY. Thanks Jamis.
Ellen Watson
on 28 Oct 11This is beautiful, and lovely to see here.
The passage resonates with me, because earlier this year I moved from a company in which everyone’s Outlook calendar was constantly stacked with meetings five deep and you had about three seconds to make your point to any of the managers before they would turn away and start checking emails, to a company where my office mates might spend a whole hour or even two in the morning talking about movies, books they’ve read, their kids, their travels. I have a little card on my desk listing this new company’s priorities, and number one on the list is “People”. I love coming to work now, and I know that we do better work and accomplish more.
Phil Graniero
on 28 Oct 11On a packed day that is becoming one of “those” days, thanks for this. It’s exactly what I needed.
Anne Hightower
on 28 Oct 11these feeds are like a cool drink of water on a hot day
Dain Miller
on 31 Oct 11I have always loved Robert Frost. I have two of my favorites here that I thought everyone may enjoy;
Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening
Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound’s the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.
Nothing Gold Can Stay
Nature’s first green is gold Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf’s a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay.
Have a great day everyone!
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