Robert Frost (March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963 / San Francisco)
Poems of Robert Frost
|101.||The Gift Outright||1/3/2003|
|105.||The Lockless Door||1/3/2003|
|106.||The Master Speed||9/14/2013|
|108.||The Need of Being Versed in Country Things||1/3/2003|
|109.||The Objection To Being Stepped On||3/29/2010|
|110.||The Oft-Repeated Dream||3/30/2010|
|111.||The Oven Bird||1/3/2003|
|113.||The Road Not Taken||1/3/2003|
|114.||The Rose Family||1/3/2003|
|115.||The Secret Sits||1/3/2003|
|116.||The Silken Tent||1/3/2003|
|118.||The Sound of Trees||1/3/2003|
|119.||The Span Of Life||1/13/2003|
|120.||The Star Splitter||1/3/2003|
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.