| Robert Frost (1874–1963). Mountain Interval. 1920. |
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| 14. A Time to Talk |
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| WHEN a friend calls to me from the road | |
| And slows his horse to a meaning walk, | |
| I don’t stand still and look around | |
| On all the hills I haven’t hoed, | |
| And shout from where I am, What is it? | 5 |
| No, not as there is a time to talk. | |
| I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground, | |
| Blade-end up and five feet tall, | |
| And plod: I go up to the stone wall | |
| For a friendly visit. | 10 |
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