Robert Frost Quotes
''Come over the hills and far with me,Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "A Line-Storm Song."
And be my love in the rain.''
''It is cotter-pinned, it is bedded true.Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "A Trial Run."
Everything its parts can do
Has been thought out and accounted for.
Your least touch sets it going round,
And when top stop it rests with you.''
''He runs face forward. He is a pursuer.Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "EscapistNever."
He seeks a seeker who in his turn seeks
Another still, lost far into the distance.''
''Then a small rainbow like a trellis gate,Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "Iris By Night."
A very small moon-made prismatic bow,
Stood closely over us through which to go.''
''O hushed October morning mild,Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "October."
Begin the hours of this day slow.
Make the day seem to us less brief.''
''Patience and looking away ahead,Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "Something for Hope."
And leaving some things to take their course.
Hope may not nourish a cow or horse,
But spes alit agricolam 'tis said.''
''"... Call her Nausicaä, the unafraidRobert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "The Generations of Men."
Of an acquaintance made adventurously."
"I let you way that on consideration."''
''Bringing him onRobert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "The Rabbit-Hunter."
The shadowy hare
For him to rend
And deal a death
That he nor it
(Nor I) have wit
''Good blocks of oak it was I split,Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. Two Tramps in Mud Time (l. 9-12). . . The Poetry of Robert Frost. Edward Connery Lathem, ed. (1979) Henry Holt.
As large around as the chopping block;
And every piece I squarely hit
Fell splinterless as a cloven rock.''
''Oh, never this whelming east wind swellsRobert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "A Line-Storm Song."
But it seems like the sea's return
To the ancient lands where it left the shells
Before the age of the fern....''
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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