Robert Frost - A Minor Bird

I have wished a bird would fly away,
And not sing by my house all day;

Have clapped my hands at him from the door
When it seemed as if I could bear no more.

The fault must partly have been in me.
The bird was not to blame for his key.

And of course there must be something wrong
In wanting to silence any song.

6

“A j-joke?” he whispered. “Here’s one: Th-there were three Slytherins…Three f-fucked up Slytherins. The first f-fell in love with…with the Gryffindor’s P-Princess and became g-good. The second fell in l-love with Ravenclaw’s An-Angel and became good, t-too. The third…the third did…n-nothing…b-but…but he tried…” (x)

remake of this

Isolation offered its own form of companionship: the reliable silence of her rooms, the steadfast tranquility of the evenings. The promise that she would find things where she put them, that there would be no interruption, no surprise. It greeted her at the end of each day and lay still with her at night.