(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963 / San Francisco)

The Demiurge's Laugh

It was far in the sameness of the wood;
I was running with joy on the Demon’s trail,
Though I knew what I hunted was no true god.
It was just as the light was beginning to fail
That I suddenly heard—all I needed to hear:
It has lasted me many and many a year.

The sound was behind me instead of before,
A sleepy sound, but mocking half,
As of one who utterly couldn’t care.
The Demon arose from his wallow to laugh,
Brushing the dirt from his eye as he went;
And well I knew what the Demon meant.

I shall not forget how his laugh rang out.
I felt as a fool to have been so caught,
And checked my steps to make pretence
It was something among the leaves I sought
(Though doubtful whether he stayed to see).
Thereafter I sat me against a tree.

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Comments (4)

lol this is trash like ur mom XDDDD
I don't get it, whatever it is, which happens to me with some of Frost's poems. I found Guillermo's & Allport's comments helpful.
Did it really happen..? only I can speculate. but Robert Frost being a writer can be in his creativity best...
a case of the hunted being hunted