Word: vagabonde
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...Vagabond was glad he was sitting next to a window when they announced the lecture had been moved to New Lecture Hall. He didn't mind getting his feet wet in the drifts under that window. He didn't mind the jostle in the rush past Memorial Hall. He was going to hear Robert Frost, and his mind ran back to that night several winters ago when it had last heard him. Mr. Frost had packed the New Lecture Hall full then, too, even with a northeast gale howling outside--the kind of a day they wouldn...
...then, there he was on the platform, that kindly smile, a twinkle in his eyes. The Vagabond thought of that wise saying--it's credited to Mrs. Hocking--that when Mr. Frost lectures, he thinks out loud, and his thoughts are worth listening to. He was thinking out loud now, ideas on college, "the four years of shelter from a hard world, the four years of beautiful leisure." The Vagabond remembered that it had been Mr. Frost who had told him that of all the things in college, only two were worthwhile for a person of artistic leanings, "sports...
This "someone" of the woodpile was a cavalier, Mr. Frost was saying. But that's what the poet was, too. He picked up his knowledge anywhere; he turned from task to task. This disturbed the Vagabond. He shouldn't know about things the way a scholar...
Here he was making fun of the scholar again. "I've got one poem," Mr. Frost was saying, "that I want to publish by itself. It's very booky. It would only take about a page, and then I would have about 25 pages of notes." The Vagabond was not the only one who thought of "The Waste Land" as the room rippled with laughter. But he liked T. S. Eliot. And Mr. Frost was making...
Something is wrong with the Vagabond. He has not been the same lately and he cannot figure out just what is the matter. It isn't Spring, or Christmas, or Thanksgiving. Vag's been different lately that...