River Frost 1914 Two neighbours meet to mend a wall in the spring time:

“Mending Wall” (1914) by Robert Frost

Selected lines: (the entire poem and link follows at the end)
“Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,

……… There where it is we do not need the wall:

 He is all pine and I am apple orchard.

 My apple trees will never get across

 And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.

 He only says, “Good fences make good neighbours.”

 Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder

 If I could put a notion in his head:

 “Why do they make good neighbours? Isn’t it

 Where there are cows? But here there are no cows.

 Before I built a wall I’d ask to know

 What I was walling in or walling out,

 And to whom I was like to give offence.

 Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,

……………………..”

Mending Wall – Wikisource, the free online library

The entire poem:

“Mending Wall” (1914) by Robert Frost
Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,

 That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,

 And spills the upper boulders in the sun;

 And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.

 The work of hunters is another thing:

 I have come after them and made repair

 Where they have left not one stone on a stone,

 But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,

 To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,

 No one has seen them made or heard them made,

 But at spring mending-time we find them there.

 I let my neighbour know beyond the hill;

 And on a day we meet to walk the line

 And set the wall between us once again.

 We keep the wall between us as we go.

 To each the boulders that have fallen to each.

 And some are loaves and some so nearly balls

 We have to use a spell to make them balance:

 “Stay where you are until our backs are turned!”

 We wear our fingers rough with handling them.

 Oh, just another kind of out-door game,

 One on a side. It comes to little more:

 There where it is we do not need the wall:

 He is all pine and I am apple orchard.

 My apple trees will never get across

 And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.

 He only says, “Good fences make good neighbours.”

 Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder

 If I could put a notion in his head:

 “Why do they make good neighbours? Isn’t it

 Where there are cows? But here there are no cows.

 Before I built a wall I’d ask to know

 What I was walling in or walling out,

 And to whom I was like to give offence.

 Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,

 That wants it down.” I could say “Elves” to him,

 But it’s not elves exactly, and I’d rather

 He said it for himself. I see him there

 Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top

 In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed.

 He moves in darkness as it seems to me,

 Not of woods only and the shade of trees.

 He will not go behind his father’s saying,

 And he likes having thought of it so well

 He says again, “Good fences make good neighbours.”
Here are my views 
Across time and space?

Are two men closing space 

Ever time at spring time 

They come together

To keep apart my side 

You keep on your side

Just as we do now 

With our myopic views 

Just so that we can abide

By an old adage 

‘Good fences make 

Good neighbours ‘

Wish that a mere fence

Were enough to make me 

Good. 

Shariffa Keshavjee 

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