Robert Frost

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

Robert Frost Quotes

  • ''Westerners inherit
    A design for living
    Deeper into matter—
    Not without due patter
    Of a great misgiving.''
    Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "Kitty Hawk."
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  • ''He might have been the dream of a ghost
    In spite of the way his tail had smacked
    My floor so hard and matter-of-fact.''
    Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "One More Brevity."
  • ''Let chaos storm!
    Let cloud shapes swarm!
    I wait for form.''
    Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. Ten Mills, "V. Pertinax."
  • ''I told him this is a pleasant life,
    To set your breast to the bark of trees
    That all your days are dim beneath,
    And reaching up with a little knife,
    To loose the resin and take it down
    And bring it to market when you please.''
    Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "The Gum-Gatherer."
  • ''Pressed into service means pressed out of shape.''
    Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. The Self-Seeker, North of Boston (1914).
  • ''Some things are never clear.
    But the weather is clear tonight....''
    Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "Voice Ways."
  • ''Our lives laid down in war and peace may not
    Be found acceptable in Heaven's sight.
    And that they may be is the only prayer
    Worth praying. May my sacrifice
    Be found acceptable in Heaven's sight.''
    Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "A Masque of Mercy."
  • ''It was a thing of beauty and was sent
    To live its life out as an ornament.''
    Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "A Young Birch."
  • ''The measure of the little while
    That I've been long away.''
    Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "Flower-Gathering."
  • ''God of the machine,
    Peregrine machine,
    Some still think is Satan,
    Unto you the thanks
    For this token flight,
    Thanks to you and thanks
    To the brothers Wright....''
    Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "Kitty Hawk."

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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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