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"It could not have come down to us so far,
Through the interstices of things ajar
On the long bead chain of repeated birth,
To be a bird while we are men on earth,"
Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "On a Bird Singing in Its Sleep." |
"Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow."
Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening (l. 1-4). . .
The Poetry of Robert Frost. Edward Connery Lathem, ed. (1979) Henry Holt. |
"Such as we were we gave ourselves outright
(The deed of gift was many deeds of war)
To the land vaguely realizing westward,
But still unstoried, artless, unenhanced,
Such as she was, such as she would become."
Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. The Gift Outright (l. 12-16). . .
The Poetry of Robert Frost. Edward Connery Lathem, ed. (1979) Henry Holt. |
"Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference."
Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. The Road Not Taken (l. 18-20). . .
The Poetry of Robert Frost. Edward Connery Lathem, ed. (1979) Henry Holt. |
"I had a vision of them put together
Not like a man, but like a chandelier."
Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. Two Witches (l. 68-69). . .
The Poetry of Robert Frost. Edward Connery Lathem, ed. (1979) Henry Holt. |
"He knew a path that wanted walking;
He knew a spring that wanted drinking;
A thought that wanted further thinking;
A love that wanted re-renewing."
Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "A Lone Striker." |
"And I may return
If dissatisfied
With what I learn
From having died."
Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "Away!" |
"Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice."
Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. Fire and Ice, New Hampshire (1923). |
"The furthest bodies
To which man sends his
Speculation,
Beyond which God is;
The cosmic motes
Of yawning lenses."
Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "I Will Sing You One-O...." |
"The tree the tempest with a crash of wood
Throws down in front of us is not to bar
Our passage to our journey's end for good,
But just to ask us who we think we are...."
Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "On a Tree Fallen Across the Road." |
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