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
My long two-pointed ladder's sticking through a tree Toward heaven still, And there's a barrel that I didn't fill Beside it, and there may be two or three Apples I didn't pick upon some bough. But I am done with apple-picking now. Essence of winter sleep is on the night, The scent of apples: I am drowsing off.
I have miles to go before I sleep...
Trust him to have his bitter politics Against his unacquaintances the rich Who sleep in houses of their own, though mortgaged. Conservatives, they don't know what to save.
The mind-is not the heart. I may yet live, as I know others live, To wish in vain to let go with the mind- Of cares, at night, to sleep; but nothing tells me That I need learn to let go with the heart.
I shall be telling this with a sigh - Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I - I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference
Thinking is not to agree or disagree. That is voting.
An earthly dog of the carriage breed; Who, having failed of the modern speed, Now asked asylum and I was stirred To be the one so dog-preferred
Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I - I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference
Man that is of woman born is apt to be as vain as his mother
By working faithfully eight hours a day you may eventually get to be boss and work twelve hours a day.
There never was any heart truly great and generous, that was not also tender and compassionate.
Time and Tide wait for no man,but time always stands still for a woman of thirty.
Time and tide wait for no man, but always stand still for a woman of thirty
Tree at my window, window tree,/ My sash is lowered when night comes on;/ But let there never be curtain drawn/ Between you and me.