Robert Frost

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

Robert Frost Quotes

  • ''What is this talked-of mystery of birth
    But being mounted bareback on the earth?''
    Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "Riders."
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  • ''And a man came out of the trees
    And took our horse by the head
    And reaching back to his ribs
    Deliberately stabbed him dead.''
    Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. The Draft Horse (l. 5-8). . . The Poetry of Robert Frost. Edward Connery Lathem, ed. (1979) Henry Holt.
  • ''"Warm in December, cold in June, you say?"
    "I don't suppose the water's changed at all.
    You and I know enough to know it's warm
    Compared with cold, and cold compared with warm.
    But all the fun's in how you say a thing."''
    Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "The Mountain."
  • ''I own I never really warmed
    To the reformer or reformed.
    And yet conversion has its place
    Not halfway down the scale of grace.''
    Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "To a Thinker."
  • ''We made a day of it out of the world,
    Ascending to descend to reascend.''
    Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "A Fountain, a Bottle, A Donkey's Ears, and Some Books."
  • ''I wonder how I should like you to come to me
    And offer to put me gently out of my pain.''
    Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "A Roadside Stand."
  • ''But no, I was out for stars:
    I would not come in.
    I meant not even if asked,
    And I hadn't been.''
    Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. Come In (l. 15-20). . . The Poetry of Robert Frost. Edward Connery Lathem, ed. (1979) Henry Holt.
  • ''having its undeviable say.''
    Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "In a Poem."
  • ''How are we to write
    The Russian novel in America
    As long as life goes so unterribly?''
    Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "New Hampshire."
  • ''The surest thing there is is we are riders....''
    Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "Riders."

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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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