"Reluctance" by Robert Frost

Out through the fields and the woods 
And over the walls I have wended; 
I have climbed the hills of view 
And looked at the world, and descended; 
I have come by the highway home, 
And lo, it is ended.

The leaves are all dead on the ground, 
Save those that the oak is keeping 
To ravel them one by one 
And let them go scraping and creeping 
Out over the crusted snow, 
When others are sleeping.

And the dead leaves lie huddled and still, 
No longer blown hither and thither; 
The last long aster is gone; 
The flowers of the witch-hazel wither; 
The heart is still aching to seek, 
But the feet question 'Whither?'

Ah, when to the heart of man 
Was it ever less than a treason 
To go with the drift of things, 
To yield with a grace to reason, 
And bow and accept the end 
Of a love or a season?

This poem speaks to me so much...I love the way it gives form to the idea of reluctance.