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
Something there is that doesn't love a wall
When a friend calls to me from the road And slows his horse to a meaning walk, I don't stand still and look around On all the hills I haven't hoed, And shout from where I am, What is it? No, not as there is a time to talk. I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground, Blade-end up and five feet tall, And plod: I go up to the stone wall For a friendly visit.
Something there is that doesn't love a wall, and wants it down.
Before I built a wall I'd ask to know What I was walling in or walling out, And to whom I was like to give offence. Something there is that doesn't love a wall, That wants it down.
Nature does not complete things. She is chaotic. Man must finish, and he does so by making a garden and building a wall.
I've had a lover's quarrel with the world
Oh I kept the first for another dayYet knowing how way leads on to way,I doubted if should ever come back.
It looked as if a night of dark intentWas coming, and not only a night, an age.Someone had better be prepared for rage.There would be more than ocean-water brokenBefore God's last 'Put out the Light' was spoken
Skepticism,'' is that anything more than we used to mean when we said, ''Well, what have we here?'
''Skepticism,'' is that anything more than we used to mean when we said, ''Well, what have we here?''
So dawn goes down to day/ Nothing gold can stay.
The land was ours before we were the land s. She was our land more than a hundred years before we were her people.
The land was ours before we were the land's.
I turned to speak to God About the world's despair; But to make bad matters worse, I found God wasn't there