In 1918, Robert Frost inscribed the poem, “War Thoughts at Home,” but over the next 88 years, it remained largely unseen.

It was first published in the ‘Virginia Quarterly Review’. It reflects the stories of two close friends of Frost. 

Sharing the poem here -  

 On the back side of the house
 Where it wears no paint to the weather
 And so shows most its age,
 Suddenly blue jays rage
 And flash in blue feather.
 
 It is late in an afternoon
 More grey with snow to fall
 Than white with fallen snow
 When it is blue jay and crow
 Or no bird at all.

 
 So someone heeds from within
 This flurry of bird war,
 And rising from her chair
 A little bent over with care
 Not to scatter on the floor

 
 The sewing in her lap
 Comes to the window to see.
 At sight of her dim face
 The birds all cease for a space
 And cling close in a tree.

 
 And one says to the rest
 "We must just watch our chance
 And escape one by one—
 Though the fight is no more done
 Than the war is in France."

 
 Than the war is in France!
 She thinks of a winter camp
 Where soldiers for France are made.
 She draws down the window shade
 And it glows with an early lamp.

 
 On that old side of the house
 The uneven sheds stretch back
 Shed behind shed in train
 Like cars that long have lain
 Dead on a side track.