It was far in the sameness of the wood;
I was running with joy on the Demon’s trail,
Though I knew what I hunted was no true god.
It was just as the light was beginning to fail
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I don't get it, whatever it is, which happens to me with some of Frost's poems. I found Guillermo's & Allport's comments helpful.
Did it really happen..? only I can speculate. but Robert Frost being a writer can be in his creativity best...
lol this is trash like ur mom XDDDD