Robert Frost Poems (185 Poems)
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After Apple Picking (Robert Frost Poems)
My long two-pointed ladder’s sticking through a treeToward heaven still.And there’s a barrel that I didn’t fillBeside it, and there may be two or threeApples I didn’t pick upon some bough.But I am done with apple-picking now.Essence of winter sleep … Continue reading
A Considerable Speck (Robert Frost Poems)
(Microscopic) A speck that would have been beneath my sightOn any but a paper sheet so whiteSet off across what I had written there.And I had idly poised my pen in airTo stop it with a period of inkWhen something … Continue reading
In white: Frost’s Early Version of Design (Robert Frost Poems)
A dented spider like a snow drop whiteOn a white Heal-all, holding up a mothLike a white piece of lifeless satin cloth –Saw ever curious eye so strange a sight? –Portent in little, assorted death and blightLike the ingredients of … Continue reading
The Vanishing Red (Robert Frost Poem)
He is said to have been the last Red man In Action. 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 … Continue reading
The Kitchen Chimney (Robert Frost Poem)
Builder, in building the little house, In every way you may please yourself; But please please me in the kitchen chimney: Don’t build me a chimney upon a shelf. However far you must go for bricks, Whatever they cost a-piece … Continue reading
The Star-Splitter (Robert Frost Poem)
`You know Orion always comes up sideways. Throwing a leg up over our fence of mountains, And rising on his hands, he looks in on me Busy outdoors by lantern-light with something I should have done by daylight, and indeed, … Continue reading
The Valley’s Singing Day (Robert Frost Poems)
The sound of the closing outside door was all. You made no sound in the grass with your footfall, As far as you went from the door, which was not far; But had awakened under the morning star The first … Continue reading
The Generations of Men (Robert Frost Poem)
A governor it was proclaimed this time, When all who would come seeking in New Hampshire Ancestral memories might come together. And those of the name Stark gathered in Bow, A rock-strewn town where farming has fallen off, And sprout-lands … Continue reading
The Grindstone (Robert Frost Poem)
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, … Continue reading
The Ax-Helve (Robert Frost Poem)
I’ve known ere now an interfering branch Of alder catch my lifted ax behind me. But that was in the woods, to hold my hand From striking at another alder’s roots, And that was, as I say, an alder branch. … Continue reading
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