"The Pasture"       by Robert Frost 1. Copy the poem 2. The poem ends with the words, "You come too." The implication is that we would be happy if we were to follow him. Your assignment is to write a paragraph explaining why  we would be happier if we were to follow him.  3. Before you write, I want you to brainstorm three or four ideas at the top of  your paper. Actually  number them 1, 2, 3. I also want you to circle five important words from the poem and put them  in quotes.  4. Write your paragraph. Insightful topic sentence. Start by stating your interpretation. You might start with something like:                                   In his poem "The Pasture," Robert Frost implies that . . . Write a sentence citing a specific detail from the poem that leads you to your interpretation Write a sentence or two explaining how that word(ing) leads you to your interpretation Write a sentence citing another specific detail from the poem that leads you to your interpretation Write two sentences explaining how that word(ing) leads you to your interpretation Write a concluding sentence 7 sentences minimum "The Pasture"       by Robert Frost

I’m going out to clean the pasture spring;

I’ll only stop to rake the leaves away

(And wait to watch the water clear, I may):

I sha’n’t be gone long.—You come too.

I’m going out to fetch the little calf

That’s standing by the mother. It’s so young,

It totters when she licks it with her tongue.

I sha’n’t be gone long.—You come too. Three more poems by Robert Frost: Fire and Ice   Some say the world will end in fire, Some say in ice. From what I've tasted of desire I hold with those who favor fire. But if it had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate To say that for destruction ice Is also great And would suffice. Robert Frost Nothing Gold Can Stay Nature's first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf's a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf, So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day Nothing gold can stay. Robert Frost The Quest of the Purple-Fringed I felt the chill of the meadow underfoot, But the sun overhead; And snatches of verse and song of scenes like this I sung or said. I skirted the margin alders for miles and miles In a sweeping line. The day was the day by every flower that blooms, But I saw no sign. Yet further I went to be before the scythe, For the grass was high; Till I saw the path where the slender fox had come And gone panting by. Then at last and following him I found— In the very hour When the color flushed to the petals it must have been The far-sought flower. There stood the purple spires with no breath of air Nor headlong bee To disturb their perfect poise the livelong day ‘Neath the alder tree. I only knelt and putting the boughs aside Looked, or at most Counted them all to the buds in the corpse’s depth That were pale as a ghost. Then I arose and silently wandered home, And for I one Said that the fall might come and whirl of leaves, For summer was done.