Robert Frost Quotes
''I have been one acquainted with the night.Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. Acquainted with the Night (l. 1-3). . . The Poetry of Robert Frost. Edward Connery Lathem, ed. (1979) Henry Holt.
I have walked out in rainand back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.''
''They listen for me in the bedroomRobert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "A Record Stride."
To ask me a thing or two
About who is too old to go walking,
With too much stress on the who.''
''"A thousand Christmas trees! at what apiece?"Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "Christmas Trees."
He felt some need of softening that to me:
"A thousand trees would come to thirty dollars."
Then I was certain I had never meant
To let him have them.''
''Its bed is left a faded paper sheetRobert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "Hyla Brook."
Of dead leaves stuck together by the heat
A brook to none but who remember long.''
''I'm what is called a sensibilitist,Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "New Hampshire."
Or otherwise an environmentalist.''
''On the bare upland pasture there had spreadRobert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. Range-finding (l. 9-11). . . The Poetry of Robert Frost. Edward Connery Lathem, ed. (1979) Henry Holt.
O'ernight 'twixt mullein stalks a wheel of thread
And straining cables wet with silver dew.''
''When after talk with other menRobert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "The Discovery of the Madeiras."
A man comes back to a woman again
He tells her as much of blood and dirt
As he thinks will do her not too much hurt.''
''The author of these words,Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "The Milky Way Is a Cowpath."
Whose lifelong unconcern
Has been with flocks and herds
For what they didn't earn.''
''Happiness makes up in height what it lacks in length.''Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. Title of a poem, A Witness Tree (1942).
''All we who prefer to liveRobert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "A Drumlin Woodchuck."
Have a little whistle we give,
And flash, at the least alarm
We dive down under the farm.''
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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 ...
The buzz-saw snarled and rattled in the yard
And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood,
Sweet-scented stuff when the breeze drew across it.
And from there those that lifted eyes could count
Five mountain ranges one behind the other
Under the sunset far into Vermont.
And the saw snarled and rattled, snarled and rattled,
As it ran light, or had to bear a load.
And nothing happened: day was all but done.