“Nothing New,” by Robert Frost

Amherst 1918

One moment when the dust to-day
Against my face was turned to spray,
I dreamed the winter dream again
I dreamed when I was young at play,
Yet strangely not more sad than then—
Nothing new—
Though I am further upon my way
The same dream again.

—Robert Frost (1874-1963)

Read Jay Parini on this recently discovered poem.