Robert Frost
Robert Frost
Robert Lee Frostwas an American poet. His work was initially published in England before it was published in America. He is highly regarded for his realistic depictions of rural life and his command of American colloquial speech. His work frequently employed settings from rural life in New England in the early twentieth century, using them to examine complex social and philosophical themes. One of the most popular and critically respected American poets of the twentieth century, Frost was honored frequently...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth26 March 1874
CitySan Francisco, CA
CountryUnited States of America
I have remained resentful to this day When any but myself presumed to say That there was anything I couldn't be.
The truth is the river flows into the canyon Of Ceasing-to-Question-What-Doesn't-Concern-Us, As sooner or later we have to cease somewhere.
But what would interest you about the brook, It's always cold in summer, warm in winter.
I hope to leave behind a few poems it will be hard to get rid of.
Everyone asks for freedom for himself, The man free love, the businessman free trade, The writer and talker free speech and free press.
The problem for the King is just how strict The lack of liberty, the squeeze of the law And discipline should be in school and state....
God turned to speak to me (Don't anybody laugh); God found I wasn't there At least not over half.
It was far in the sameness of the wood; I was running with joy on the Demon's trail, Though I knew what I hunted was no true god.
Bounds should be set To ingenuity for being so cruel In bringing change unheralded on the unready.
... A nation has to take its natural course Of Progress round and round in circles From King to Mob to King to Mob to King Until the eddy of it eddies out.
If there is one thing in life that I have learned about life it is... it goes on.
How are we to write The Russian novel in America As long as life goes so unterribly?
The city is all right. To live in one Is to be civilized, stay up and read Or sing and dance all night and see sunrise By waiting up instead of getting up.
In heaven we are all ghostwriters, if we write at all.