| Robert Frost (1874–1963). North of Boston. 1915. |
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| 17. Good Hours |
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| I HAD for my winter evening walk— | |
| No one at all with whom to talk, | |
| But I had the cottages in a row | |
| Up to their shining eyes in snow. | |
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| And I thought I had the folk within: | 5 |
| I had the sound of a violin; | |
| I had a glimpse through curtain laces | |
| Of youthful forms and youthful faces. | |
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| I had such company outward bound. | |
| I went till there were no cottages found. | 10 |
| I turned and repented, but coming back | |
| I saw no window but that was black. | |
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| Over the snow my creaking feet | |
| Disturbed the slumbering village street | |
| Like profanation, by your leave, | 15 |
| At ten o’clock of a winter eve. | |
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