Robert Frost Quotes
''In spring more mortal singers than belongRobert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "Our Singing Strength."
To any one place cover us with song.
Thrush, bluebird, blackbird, sparrow, and robin throng....''
''The world has room to make a bear feel free;Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "The Bear."
The universe seems cramped to you and me.''
''"It's you," she said. "I can't get up. Forgive meRobert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "The Housekeeper."
Not answering your knock. I can no more
Let people in than I can keep them out.
I'm getting too old for my size, I tell them...."''
''Till having failed at hugger-mugger farmingRobert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "The Star-Splitter."
He burned his house down for the fire insurance
And spent the proceeds on a telescope
To satisfy a lifelong curiosity
About our place among the infinities.''
''Lovers, forget your love,Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "Wind and Window Flower."
And list to the love of these,
She a window flower,
And he a winter breeze.''
''We don't know where we are, or who we are.Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "A Masque of Reason."
We don't know one another; don't know You;
Don't know what time it is. We don't know, don't we?''
''Blueberries as big as the end of your thumb,Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "Blueberries."
Real sky-blue, and heavy, and ready to drum
In the cavernous pail of the first one to come!''
''Spades take up leavesRobert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "Gathering Leaves."
No better than spoons,
And bags full of leaves
Are light as balloons.''
''The west was getting out of gold,Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "Looking for a Sunset Bird in Winter."
The breath of air had died of cold....''
''Well, something for a snowstorm to have shownRobert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "Our Singing Strength."
The country's singing strength thus brought together,
That though repressed and moody with the weather
Was nonetheless there ready to be freed
And sing the wild flowers up from root and seed.''
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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 ...
As I came to the edge of the woods,
Thrush music -- hark!
Now if it was dusk outside,
Inside it was dark.
Too dark in the woods for a bird
By sleight of wing
To better its perch for the night,
Though it still could sing.