Robert Frost Quotes
''But what would interest you about the brook,Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "The Mountain."
It's always cold in summer, warm in winter.''
''And though in tinsel chain and popcorn ropeRobert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "To a Young Wretch."
My tree, a captive in your window bay,
Has lost its footing on my mountain slope
And lost the stars of heaven, may, oh, may
The symbol star it lifts against your ceiling
Help me accept its fate with Christmas feeling.''
''My long two-pointed ladder's sticking through a treeRobert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. After Apple-picking (l. 1-6). . . The Poetry of Robert Frost. Edward Connery Lathem, ed. (1979) Henry Holt.
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.''
''A half a dozen major wars,Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "A Serious Step Lightly Taken."
And forty-five presidents.''
''Then word goes forth in Formic:Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. Departmental (l. 22-24). . . The Poetry of Robert Frost. Edward Connery Lathem, ed. (1979) Henry Holt.
"Death's come to Jerry McCormic,
Our selfless forager Jerry.''
''Before the leaves can mount againRobert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "In Hardwood Groves."
To fill the trees with another shade,
They must go down past things coming up.
They must go down into the dark decayed.''
''No state can buildRobert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "New Hampshire."
A literature that shall at once be sound
And sad on a foundation of well-being.''
''Sea waves are green and wet,Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "Sand Dunes."
But up from where they die
Rise others vaster yet,
And those are brown and dry.''
''We turned to other things.Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "The Exposed Nest."
I haven't any memory have you?
Of ever coming to the place again
To see if the birds lived the first night through.
And so at last to learn to use their wings.''
''It doesn't seem so much to climb a mountainRobert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "The Mountain."
You've worked around the foot of all your life.''
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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.