“To take your mother-loss of a first child
So inconsolably—in the face of love.
You’d think his memory might be satisfied. . .”

“There you go sneering now!”

“I’m not, I’m not!
You make me angry. I’ll come down to you.
God, what a woman! And it’s come to this,
A man can’t speak of his own child that’s dead.’

“You can’t because you don't know how to speak.
If you had any feelings, you that dug
With your own hand—how could you?—his little grave;
I saw you from that very window there,
Making the gravel leap and leap in air,
Leap up, like that, like that, and land so lightly
And roll back down the mound beside the hole.
I thought, Who is that man? I didn’t know you.”

. . .

Ending on a very sad poem.
Robert Frost's works are very touching, very sad, and this one is especially more sadder than the others