The Hill Wife

by Robert Frost

V. The Impulse

It was too lonely for her there
And too wild,
And since there were but two of them
And no child,

And work was little in the house
She was free,
And followed where he furrowed field,
Or felled tree.

She rested on a log and tossed
The fresh chips,
With a song only to herself
On her lips.

And once she went to break a bough
Of black alder.
She strayed so far she scarcely heard
When he called her —

And didn’t answer — didn’t speak —
Or return.
She stood, and she ran and hid
In the fern.

He never found her, though he looked
Everywhere,
And he asked at her mother’s house
Was she there.

Sudden and swift and light as that
The ties gave,
And he learned of finalities
Besides the grave.