Robert Frost

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

Robert Frost Quotes

  • ''The water for which we may have to look
    In summertime with a witching wand,
    In every wheelrut's now a brook,
    In every print of a hoof a pond.''
    Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. Two Tramps in Mud Time (l. 33-36). . . The Poetry of Robert Frost. Edward Connery Lathem, ed. (1979) Henry Holt.
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  • ''The line-storm clouds fly tattered and swift.
    The road is forlorn all day....''
    Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "A Line-Storm Song."
  • ''Moisture and color and odor thicken here.
    The hours of daylight gather atmosphere.''
    Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "Atmosphere."
  • ''Oh, there had once been night the first,
    But this was night the last.''
    Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "Ends."
  • ''Light was a paste of pigment in our eyes.''
    Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "Iris By Night."
  • ''Slow, slow!
    For the grapes' sake, if they were all,
    Whose leaves already are burnt with frost,
    Whose clustered fruit must else be lost
    For the grapes' sake along the wall.''
    Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "October."
  • ''The chance is the remotest
    Of its going much longer unnoticed
    That I'm not keeping pace
    With the headlong human race.''
    Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "Some Science Fiction."
  • ''Someone had literally run to earth
    In an old cellar hole in a byroad
    The origin of all the family there.
    Thence they were sprung, so numerous a tribe
    That now not all the houses left in town
    Made shift to shelter them without the help
    Of here and there a tent in grove and orchard.''
    Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "The Generations of Men."
  • ''I skirted the margin alders for miles and miles
    In a sweeping line.
    The day was the day by every flower that blooms,
    But I saw no sign.''
    Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "The Quest of the Purple-Fringed."
  • ''Men of the woods and lumberjacks,
    They judged me by their appropriate tool.
    Except as a fellow handled an ax,
    They had no way of knowing a fool.''
    Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. Two Tramps in Mud Time (l. 53-56). . . 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

Out, Out

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.

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