Robert Frost Quotes
''Westerners inheritRobert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "Kitty Hawk."
A design for living
Deeper into matter
Not without due patter
Of a great misgiving.''
''He might have been the dream of a ghostRobert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "One More Brevity."
In spite of the way his tail had smacked
My floor so hard and matter-of-fact.''
''Let chaos storm!Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. Ten Mills, "V. Pertinax."
Let cloud shapes swarm!
I wait for form.''
''I told him this is a pleasant life,Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "The Gum-Gatherer."
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.''
''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.Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "Voice Ways."
But the weather is clear tonight....''
''Our lives laid down in war and peace may notRobert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "A Masque of Mercy."
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.''
''It was a thing of beauty and was sentRobert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "A Young Birch."
To live its life out as an ornament.''
''The measure of the little whileRobert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "Flower-Gathering."
That I've been long away.''
''God of the machine,Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "Kitty Hawk."
Some still think is Satan,
Unto you the thanks
For this token flight,
Thanks to you and thanks
To the brothers Wright....''
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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.