Robert Frost

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

Robert Frost Quotes

  • ''The rain to the wind said,
    "You push and I'll pelt."''
    Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "Lodged."
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  • ''The road became a channel running flocks
    Of glossy birds like ripples over rocks.''
    Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "Our Singing Strength."
  • ''The telescope at one end of his beat,
    And at the other end the microscope....''
    Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "The Bear."
  • ''"... John's no threatener
    Like some menfolk. No one's afraid of him;
    All is, he's made up his mind not to stand
    What he has got to stand."''
    Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "The Housekeeper."
  • ''Often he bid me come and have a look
    Up the brass barrel, velvet black inside,
    At a star quaking in the other end.''
    Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "The Star-Splitter."
  • ''It is getting dark and time he drew to a house,
    But the blizzard blinds him to any house ahead.
    The storm gets down his neck in any icy souse
    That sucks his breath like a wicked cat in bed.''
    Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "Willful Homing."
  • ''Deliver us from committees.''
    Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "A Masque of Reason."
  • ''"Who cares what they say? It's a nice way to live,
    Just taking what Nature is willing to give,
    Not forcing her hand with harrow and plow."''
    Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "Blueberries."
  • ''Let's holler and ask him if he won't prescribe
    For all humanity a complete rest
    From all this wagery. But what's the use
    Of asking any sympathy of him?
    That class of people don't know what work is....''
    Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "From Plane to Plane."
  • ''A brush had left a crooked stroke
    Of what was either cloud or smoke
    From north to south across the blue;
    A piercing little star was through.''
    Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "Looking for a Sunset Bird in Winter."

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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

A Time To Talk

When a friend calls to me from the road
And slows his horse to a meaning walk,
I don't stand still and look around
On all the hills I haven't hoed,
And shout from where I am, What is it?
No, not as there is a time to talk.
I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground,
Blade-end up and five feet tall,
And plod: I go up to the stone wall

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