When the spent sun throws up its rays on cloud 
And goes down burning into the gulf below, 
No voice in nature is heard to cry aloud 
At what has happened. Birds, at least, must know 
It is the change to darkness in the sky. 
Murmuring something quiet in its breast, 
One bird begins to close a faded eye; 
Or overtaken too far from its nest, 
Hurrying low above the grove, some waif 
Swoops just in time to his remembered tree. 
At most he thinks or twitters softly, “Safe! 
Now let the night be dark for all of me. 
Let the night be too dark for me to see 
Into the future. Let what will be be.”
 

Robert Frost (1874 – 1963) was an American poet and winner of four Pulitzer Prizes, most known for The Road Not Taken (a poem often read during graduation ceremonies), Fire and Ice, Mending Wall, Nothing Gold Can Stay, and Home Burial.

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