The Most of it ðǩ mǩȚst ǩv Ǻt | "He thought he kept the universe alone; for all the voice in answer he could hi θǤət (h)i kept ðǩ juənǺvǬəs ǩlǩȚn | wake fǩr Ǥəl ðǩ vǤǺs Ǻn ǡənsǩ hi kǩd weǺk| was but the mocking echo of his own wǩz bǩt ðǩ mǢkǺŋ ekǩ(Ț) ǩv Ǻz ǩȚn | from some tree-hidden cliff across frǩm sȜm tri: hǺdn klǺf ǩkrǢs ðǩ leǺk | the lake sȜm mǤənǺŋ frǩm ðǩ bǩȚldǩ brǩukn Some morning from the boulderbroken beach He would cry out on life, that what it wants biətȓ | hi wȚd kra(Ǻ) ǡȚt Ǣn laǺf | ðǩt wǢt Ǻt wǢnts | is not its own love back in copy Ǻz nǢt Ǻts ǩȚn lȜv bæk Ǻn kǢpi spiətȓ | speech, bǩt kǡȚntǩ lȜv ǩn ǩrǺdȢǩnlʜ rǺspǢns | but counter-love, original response ǩn(d) nȜθǺŋ evǩ keǺm ǩv wǢt (h)i kraǺd And nothing ever came of what he cried Ȝnles Ǻt wǩz ði ǺmbǢdǺmǩnt ðǩt kræȓt Unless it was the embodiment that Ǻn ðǩ klǺfs teǺlǩs Ǣn ði Ȝðǩ saǺd | crashed ǩn(d) ðen Ǻn ðǩ fǡ: dǺstǩnt wǤətǩ In the cliff's talus on the other side, splæȓt | And then in the far-distant water bǩt ǡəftǩr ǩ taǺm ǩlǡȚd fǩr Ǻt tǩ swǺm splashed, Ǻnsted ǩv pruəvǺŋ hjuəmǩn wen Ǻt But after a time allowed for it to swim, nǺǩd | Instead of proving human when it ǩn(d) sȜmwȜn els ǩdǺȓnʜǩl tu Ǻm | neared ǩz ǩ DZreǺt bȜk Ǻt pǡ(Ț)ǩf(ǩ)li ǩpǺǩd | And someone else additional to him, pȚȓǺŋ ðǩ krȜmplʜd wǤətǩr Ȝp ǩhed | As a great buck it powerfully ǩn(d) lændǺd pǤərǺŋ laǺk ǩ wǤətǩfǤəl | appeared, ǩn(d) stȜmblʜd θruə ðǩ rǢks wǺð hǤəni Pushing the crumpled water up ahead, And landed pouring like a waterfall, And stumbled through the rocks with horny tread, And forced the underbrush and that was all." — Robert Frost Compiled Juan Carlos David tred | ǩn(d) fǤəst ði Ȝndǩ brȜȓ | ǩn ðæt wǩz Ǥəl rǢbǩt frǢst |