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 wished a bird would fly away, And not sing by my house all day....
A bird half wakened in the lunar noon Sang halfway through its little inborn tune.
Ants are a curious race
We disparage reason. But all the time it's what we're most concerned with. There's will as motor and there's will as brakes. Reason is, I suppose, the steering gear.
Both T.S. Eliot and I like to play, but I like to play euchre, while he likes to play Eucharist.
In spring more mortal singers than belong To any one place cover us with song. Thrush, bluebird, blackbird, sparrow, and robin throng....
A poet must never make a statement simply because it sounds poetically exciting; he must also believe it to be true." - W. H. Auden "A poem...begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness...It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.
Freedom is slavery some poets tell us. Enslave yourself to the right leader's truth, Christ's or Karl Marx', and it will set you free.
What an exciting age it is we live in With all this talk about the hope of youth And nothing made of youth.
The old dog barks backward without getting up I can remember when he was a pup.
What makes a nation in the beginning is a good piece of geography.
He says the best way out is always through. / And I can agree to that, or in so far / As that I can see no way out but through
Earth would soon Be uninhabitable as the moon. What for that matter had it ever been? Who advised man to come and live therein?
God made a beauteous garden With lovely flowers strown, But one straight, narrow pathway That was not overgrown. And to this beauteous garden He brought mankind to live, And said "To you, my children, These lovely flowers I give. Prune ye my vines and fig trees, With care my flowers tend, But keep the pathway open Your home is at the end." God's Garden