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Stopping By DC On November Night
Addison (Robert Frost)
7 Nov 2004
Whose house this is I think I know.
Its gates should be in Texas though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch them reap the seeds they sew.
My little car must think me queer
To stop with lies and death so near
Between the right and the growing fear
The darkest evening of the year.
I give my heavy head a shake
And wonder if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the weep
Of soldiers lost and sanity’s wake.
The night is lonely, dark and deep.
But I have hope to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep
written after the results of the 2004 election