Love or a Season, movement III
(score and demo under construction)

Poem by Robert Frost, from A Boy's Will (1913)

​The well was dry beside the door, 
  And so we went with pail and can 
Across the fields behind the house 
  To seek the brook if still it ran; 
 
Not loth to have excuse to go,
  Because the autumn eve was fair 
(Though chill), because the fields were ours, 
  And by the brook our woods were there. 
 
We ran as if to meet the moon 
  That slowly dawned behind the trees,
The barren boughs without the leaves, 
  Without the birds, without the breeze. 
 
But once within the wood, we paused 
  Like gnomes that hid us from the moon, 
Ready to run to hiding new
  With laughter when she found us soon. 
 
Each laid on other a staying hand 
  To listen ere we dared to look, 
And in the hush we joined to make 
  We heard, we knew we heard the brook.
 
A note as from a single place, 
  A slender tinkling fall that made 
Now drops that floated on the pool 
  Like pearls, and now a silver blade.

see also:
I. Into My Own
II. A Dream Pang
IV. A Late Walk
V. Reluctance

Works home