Robert Frost

(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963 / San Francisco)

The Armful


For every parcel I stoop down to seize
I lose some other off my arms and knees,
And the whole pile is slipping, bottles, buns --
Extremes too hard to comprehend at once,
Yet nothing I should care to leave behind.
With all I have to hold with hand and mind
And heart, if need be, I will do my best
To keep their building balanced at my breast.
I crouch down to prevent them as they fall;
Then sit down in the middle of them all.
I had to drop the armful in the road
And try to stack them in a better load.

Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003

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  • Rookie Antania Cannady (10/1/2013 8:36:00 PM)

    I saw this poem in my teacher's classroom. I had always seemed to let my eyes drift to it and try to memorize it, because for some reason, that I know now, I connected with it. It seemed that it foreshadowed my life. The poem, to me, means that the speaker was trying to make their way. Trying to push himself along, and make a name for himself, but didn't know which road to take. The speaker didn't know what to do and how to do it, so they chose to take it in all at once, but because we are human, we fail to realize that we simply cannot. We have to take our time. We should not give up, but choose another, smart, and healthy way to reach our full potential. (Report) Reply

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