Robert Frost (March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963 / San Francisco)
Out, Out
The buzz-saw snarled and rattled in the yard
And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood,
Sweet-scented stuff when the breeze drew across it.
And from there those that lifted eyes could count
Five mountain ranges one behind the other
Under the sunset far into Vermont.
And the saw snarled and rattled, snarled and rattled,
As it ran light, or had to bear a load.
And nothing happened: day was all but done.

Robert Frost is my favourite poet and mending wall my favourite poem.It can be taken and considered on many levels.Physical, mental, emotional barriers.Good fences make good neighbours?
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This cracka is almost as ballin as me, Big Poppie, C Wizzle, CHAD WARDEN! ! !
I am amazed at how many of his poems I remember and can recite in smaller/larger parts.
He is a really great poet. I love his poems esp The road Not Taken. In my view our life in a way is the road not taken!
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don't contact me on this site because i don't
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dont know about him very much
Robert Frost is a poet with something for everyone. He writes rhymed poetry as if it were natural, easy dialogue. He appeals to the best instincts of anyone and seems constantly to be climbing toward the infinite. Many of his poems are good enough to give me shivers. He will never become obsolete.
i have not read all poems of Frost but what i read are all impressive and real...