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