Robert Frost

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

Robert Frost Poems

If you see a poem only with title, it is listed that way because of copyright reasons.
121. Leaves Compared With Flowers 1/3/2003
122. Into My Own 1/13/2003
123. The Sound Of Trees 1/3/2003
124. Fragmentary Blue 1/13/2003
125. On Looking Up By Chance At The Constellations 1/3/2003
126. Good-Bye, And Keep Cold 1/3/2003
127. The Death Of The Hired Man 1/3/2003
128. My Butterfly 1/13/2003
129. The Telephone 1/13/2003
130. Mowing 1/13/2003
131. But Outer Space 1/3/2003
132. Now Close The Windows 1/13/2003
133. Bond And Free 1/13/2003
134. The Pasture 1/3/2003
135. Two Tramps In Mud Time 1/3/2003
136. Carpe Diem 3/29/2010
137. Flower-Gathering 1/13/2003
138. God's Garden 3/29/2010
139. The Gift Outright 1/3/2003
140. The Tuft Of Flowers 1/3/2003
141. The Soldier 1/3/2003
142. Home Burial 1/13/2003
143. Spring Pools 1/3/2003
144. The Aim Was Song 1/3/2003
145. Evening In A Sugar Orchard 1/13/2003
146. Neither Out Far Nor In Deep 1/3/2003
147. Once By The Pacific 1/3/2003
148. Never Again Would Bird's Song Be The Same 1/3/2003
149. Revelation 1/3/2003
150. Going For Water 1/13/2003
151. October 1/13/2003
152. Stars 1/3/2003
153. Out, Out 1/3/2003
154. Gathering Leaves 1/13/2003
155. Ghost House 1/13/2003
156. Design 1/3/2003
157. A Servant To Servants 1/13/2003
158. Dust Of Snow 1/3/2003
159. Come In 1/3/2003
160. Devotion 1/3/2003

Comments about Robert Frost

  • Write your name (8/8/2018 9:40:00 AM)

    Ahh, I remember having to analyze Mr. Frost's works all the time in high school. His style is just so simple and beautiful at the same time, and I adore each and every one of them so much [3

    8 person liked.
    3 person did not like.
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    As On Our Way We Go

    by Georgy

    There isn’t much that I can do,
    but I can share my bread with you, and
    sometimes a sorrow too
    as on our way we go.

    There isn’t much that I can do...

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Best Poem of Robert Frost

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come ...

Read the full of The Road Not Taken

After Apple Picking

My long two-pointed ladder's sticking through a tree
Toward heaven still.
And there's a barrel that I didn't fill
Beside it, and there may be two or three
Apples I didn't pick upon some bough.
But I am done with apple-picking now.
Essence of winter sleep is on the night,
The scent of apples; I am drowsing off.
I cannot shake the shimmer from my sight

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