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New Hampshire Interval
     Upon first visiting The Frost Place, Franconia, New Hampshire
by Catherine Chandler

He'd just returned from England, heartened, heady;
he thought he'd make a go of it he'd farm
and write. This little house was full of charm:
his Morris chair stood by the woodstove, ready.
But woods and mountains intervened; they pined
to cultivate the farmer's friendship, and
he asked them in. For, though he turned the land,
he turned to them when harrowed, undefined,
as often was the case. He did not stay
for very long the winters were too rough,
and by the second year, he'd had enough:
a summer place it would remain. Today,
nine decades later, I can sense him still,
tapping the frosted trees near Sugar Hill.
 


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