Robert Frost, here in a
contemplative mood, his poem given a quite background of soft impressionistic
watercolors. Young has made no attempt to interpret the words with camera-crisp
precision. Wisely, he offers a muted palette that gently hints at the feelings
and images evoked by the words.
I'm particularly fond of
this poem -- here are four of my favorite lines.
Soon the sun's warmth makes
them shed crystal shells