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Fire And Ice

Some say the world will end in fire, Some say in ice. From what I've tasted of desire I hold with those who favor fire. But if it had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate To know that for destruction ice Is also great, And would suffice.(The end)Robert Frost's poem: Fire And Ice... Poems - Post by : netgen - Date : September 2011 - Author : Robert Frost - Read : 3915

The Grindstone

Having a wheel and four legs of its own Has never availed the cumbersome grindstone To get it anywhere that I can see. These hands have helped it go and even race; Not all the motion, though, they ever lent, Not all the miles it may have thought it went, Have got it one step from the starting place. It stands beside the same old apple tree. The shadow of the apple tree is thin Upon it now; its feet are fast in snow. All other farm machinery's gone in,... Poems - Post by : crystal - Date : September 2011 - Author : Robert Frost - Read : 3056

The Witch Of Coos

Circa 1922 I staid the night for shelter at a farm Behind the mountain, with a mother and son, Two old-believers. They did all the talking.The Mother Folks think a witch who has familiar spirits She could call up to pass a winter evening, But won't, should be burned at the stake or something. Summoning spirits isn't "Button, button, Who's got the button?" I'd have you understand.The Son Mother can make a common table rear And kick with two legs like an army mule.The Mother And when I've done it,... Poems - Post by : mysticalmaze - Date : September 2011 - Author : Robert Frost - Read : 2786

A Brook In The City

The farm house lingers, though averse to square With the new city street it has to wear A number in. But what about the brook That held the house as in an elbow-crook? I ask as one who knew the brook, its strength And impulse, having dipped a finger-length And made it leap my knuckle, having tossed A flower to try its currents where they crossed. The meadow grass could be cemented down From growing under pavements of a town; The apple trees be sent to hearth-stone flame. Is water... Poems - Post by : Aceicol - Date : September 2011 - Author : Robert Frost - Read : 1879

Design

I found a dimpled spider, fat and white, On a white heal-all, holding up a moth Like a white piece of rigid satin cloth-- Assorted characters of death and blight Mixed ready to begin the morning right, Like the ingredients of a witches' broth-- A snow-drop spider, a flower like froth, And dead wings carried like a paper kite. What had that flower to do with being white, The wayside blue and innocent heal-all? What brought the kindred spider to that height, Then steered the white moth thither in the... Poems - Post by : customdesign - Date : September 2011 - Author : Robert Frost - Read : 3168

The Sound Of The Trees

_I wonder about the trees. Why do we wish to bear Forever the noise of these More than another noise So close to our dwelling place? We suffer them by the day Till we lose all measure of pace, And fixity in our joys, And acquire a listening air. They are that that talks of going But never gets away; And that talks no less for knowing, As it grows wiser and older, That now it means to stay. My feet tug at the floor And... Poems - Post by : Mo658 - Date : July 2011 - Author : Robert Frost - Read : 3182

The Vanishing Red

He is said to have been the last Red Man In Acton. And the Miller is said to have laughed-- If you like to call such a sound a laugh. But he gave no one else a laugher's license. For he turned suddenly grave as if to say, "Whose business,--if I take it on myself, Whose business--but why talk round the barn?-- When it's just that I hold with getting a thing done with." You can't get back and see it as he saw it. It's too long a story to go... Poems - Post by : kaybrice - Date : July 2011 - Author : Robert Frost - Read : 2328

The Line-gang

Here come the line-gang pioneering by. They throw a forest down less cut than broken. They plant dead trees for living, and the dead They string together with a living thread. They string an instrument against the sky Wherein words whether beaten out or spoken Will run as hushed as when they were a thought. But in no hush they string it: they go past With shouts afar to pull the cable taut, To hold it hard until they make it fast, To ease away--they have it. With a laugh,... Poems - Post by : Phil_Tanny - Date : July 2011 - Author : Robert Frost - Read : 3303

The Gum-gatherer

There overtook me and drew me in To his down-hill, early-morning stride, And set me five miles on my road Better than if he had had me ride, A man with a swinging bag for load And half the bag wound round his hand. We talked like barking above the din Of water we walked along beside. And for my telling him where I'd been And where I lived in mountain land To be coming home the way I was, He told me a little about himself. He came... Poems - Post by : markbc - Date : July 2011 - Author : Robert Frost - Read : 2474

Brown's Descent Or The Willy-nilly Slide

Brown lived at such a lofty farm That everyone for miles could see His lantern when he did his chores In winter after half-past three. And many must have seen him make His wild descent from there one night, 'Cross lots, 'cross walls, 'cross everything, Describing rings of lantern light. Between the house and barn the gale Got him by something he had on And blew him out on the icy crust That cased the world, and he... Poems - Post by : Lecarossbcom - Date : July 2011 - Author : Robert Frost - Read : 2931

"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. Call it a day, I wish they might have said To please the boy by giving him... Poems - Post by : queenbee19 - Date : July 2011 - Author : Robert Frost - Read : 4138

The Exposed Nest

You were forever finding some new play. So when I saw you down on hands and knees In the meadow, busy with the new-cut hay, Trying, I thought, to set it up on end, I went to show you how to make it stay, If that was your idea, against the breeze, And, if you asked me, even help pretend To make it root again and grow afresh. But 'twas no make-believe with you to-day, Nor was the grass itself your real concern, Though I found your hand full of wilted... Poems - Post by : zamrony - Date : July 2011 - Author : Robert Frost - Read : 3941

A Girl's Garden

A neighbor of mine in the village Likes to tell how one spring When she was a girl on the farm, she did A childlike thing. One day she asked her father To give her a garden plot To plant and tend and reap herself, And he said, "Why not?" In casting about for a corner He thought of an idle bit Of walled-off ground where a shop had stood, And he said, "Just it." And he... Poems - Post by : ispeculate - Date : July 2011 - Author : Robert Frost - Read : 2951

The Bonfire

"Oh, let's go up the hill and scare ourselves, As reckless as the best of them to-night, By setting fire to all the brush we piled With pitchy hands to wait for rain or snow. Oh, let's not wait for rain to make it safe. The pile is ours: we dragged it bough on bough Down dark converging paths between the pines. Let's not care what we do with it to-night. Divide it? No! But burn it as one pile The way we piled it. And let's be the talk Of... Poems - Post by : ecdiscounts - Date : July 2011 - Author : Robert Frost - Read : 3347

The Impulse

It was too lonely for her there, And too wild, And since there were but two of them, And no child, And work was little in the house, She was free, And followed where he furrowed field, Or felled tree. She rested on a log and tossed The fresh chips, With a song only to herself On her lips. And once she went to break a bough Of black alder. She strayed so... Poems - Post by : penguinpoop - Date : July 2011 - Author : Robert Frost - Read : 2463

The Oft-repeated Dream

She had no saying dark enough For the dark pine that kept Forever trying the window-latch Of the room where they slept. The tireless but ineffectual hands That with every futile pass Made the great tree seem as a little bird Before the mystery of glass! It never had been inside the room, And only one of the two Was afraid in an oft-repeated dream Of what the tree might do.(The end)Robert Frost's poem: Oft-Repeated Dream... Poems - Post by : Victoria - Date : July 2011 - Author : Robert Frost - Read : 3577

The Smile

(_Her Word_) I didn't like the way he went away. That smile! It never came of being gay. Still he smiled--did you see him?--I was sure! Perhaps because we gave him only bread And the wretch knew from that that we were poor. Perhaps because he let us give instead Of seizing from us as he might have seized. Perhaps he mocked at us for being wed, Or being very young (and he was pleased To have a vision of us old and dead). I wonder how far down the... Poems - Post by : pmcgrath - Date : July 2011 - Author : Robert Frost - Read : 3632

House Fear

Always--I tell you this they learned-- Always at night when they returned To the lonely house from far away To lamps unlighted and fire gone gray, They learned to rattle the lock and key To give whatever might chance to be Warning and time to be off in flight: And preferring the out- to the in-door night, They learned to leave the house-door wide Until they had lit the lamp inside.(The end)Robert Frost's poem: House Fear... Poems - Post by : wisetherapist - Date : July 2011 - Author : Robert Frost - Read : 2719

The Hill Wife

LONELINESS(_Her Word_) One ought not to have to care So much as you and I Care when the birds come round the house To seem to say good-bye; Or care so much when they come back With whatever it is they sing; The truth being we are as much Too glad for the one thing As we are too sad for the other here-- With birds that fill their breasts But with each other and themselves And... Poems - Post by : djstark - Date : July 2011 - Author : Robert Frost - Read : 2763

Range-finding

The battle rent a cobweb diamond-strung And cut a flower beside a ground bird's nest Before it stained a single human breast. The stricken flower bent double and so hung. And still the bird revisited her young. A butterfly its fall had dispossessed A moment sought in air his flower of rest, Then lightly stooped to it and fluttering clung. On the bare upland pasture there had spread O'ernight 'twixt mullein stalks a wheel of thread And straining cables wet with silver dew. A sudden passing bullet shook it dry.... Poems - Post by : jackass - Date : July 2011 - Author : Robert Frost - Read : 3510

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