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A lovely thing happened to us the night Robert Frost read his poetry at Brown recently, although it looked as though we were in for a disappointing evening. Our 11-year-old daughter had been assigned the project of making a five-minute talk on Frost at Lincoln School, and, when his reading was announced, it was obvious we would have to be there.

Although we went early, every seat in the Alumnae Hall auditorium had been taken for more than an hour beforehand. (Many students took sandwich suppers with them to be sure of getting places.) We managed to find seats in the Crystal Room, and the personality of the poet came over the loudspeaker without sacrifice of anything but the visual. He read poems they'd considered in school and others we had with us. Still, it wasn't like seeing Mr. Frost.

Thinking to catch a glimpse as he left the hall, we found him backstage talking to students for another twenty minutes. That helped ease the earlier disappointment, for Mr. Frost was in fine form still. We left for home knowing we'd had a good evening. Then, outside we encountered Mr. Frost again. We were stepping back to let him turn down Meeting Street when the poet caught sight of Connie. He said to Professor [of English George] Anderson, who was accompanying him, "Excuse me - here's a little girl who'd like to shake hands with me." He crossed the sidewalk and greeted her, in complete modesty but with full understanding that he was making the moment memorable for an admirer.

W. Chesley Worthington '23
Managing Editor





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