Robert Frost

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

Robert Frost Quotes

  • ''The fact is the sweetest dream that labor knows.
    My long scythe whispered and left the hay to make.''
    Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. Mowing (l. 13-14). . . The Poetry of Robert Frost. Edward Connery Lathem, ed. (1979) Henry Holt.
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  • ''I never dared to be radical when young
    For fear it would make me conservative when old.''
    Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. Precaution.
  • ''There were three in the meadow by the brook
    Gathering up windrows, piling cocks of hay,
    With an eye always lifted toward the west
    Where an irregular sun-bordered cloud
    Darkly advanced with a perpetual dagger
    Flickering across its bosom.''
    Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "The Code."
  • ''With a laugh,
    An oath of towns that set the wild at naught,
    They bring the telephone and telegraph.''
    Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "The Line-Gang."
  • ''He is said to have been the last Red Man
    In Acton. And the Miller is said to have laughed
    If you like to call such a sound a laugh.''
    Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "The Vanishing Red."
  • ''The farmhouse lingers, though averse to square
    With the new city street it has to wear
    A number in. But what about the brook
    That held the house as in an elbow-crook?''
    Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "A Brook in the City."
  • ''Teach those Asians mass production?
    Teach your grandmother egg suction.''
    Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "An Importer."
  • ''Everyone asks for freedom for himself,
    The man free love, the businessman free trade,
    The writer and talker free speech and free press.''
    Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "Build Soil."
  • ''"The wonder is I didn't see at once.
    I never noticed it from here before.
    I must be wonted to it that's the reason.
    The little graveyard where my people are!..."''
    Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "Home Burial."
  • ''There was never a sound beside the wood but one,
    And that was my long scythe whispering to the ground.''
    Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. Mowing (l. 1-2). . . The Poetry of Robert Frost. Edward Connery Lathem, ed. (1979) Henry Holt.

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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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