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Robert Frost

Robert Frost

Atmosphere

Inscription for a Garden Wall
 
Winds blow the open grassy places bleak;
But where this old wall burns a sunny cheek,
They eddy over it too toppling weak
To blow the earth or anything self-clear;
Moisture and color and odor thicken here.
The hours of daylight gather atmosphere.

#Americans #PulitzerPrize #XIXCentury #XXCentury #1928 #WestRunningBrook

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Other works by Robert Frost...
Ten Mills: Assertive

Let me be the one To do what is done.
A Man Writing at his Desk, by Jan Ekels the Younger
Quantula: In a Poem

The sentencing goes blithely on it… And takes the playfully objected r… As surely as it takes the stroke a… In having its undeviable say.
 1
Hugo Erfurth with dog, by Otto Dix
Ten Mills: The Span of Life

The old dog barks backwards withou… I can remember when he was a pup.
 2
One Or Two: The Discovery Of The Madeiras

A stolen lady was coming on board, But whether stolen from her wedded… Or from her own self against her w… Was not set forth in the lading bi… A stolen lady was all it said.
One Or Two: Happiness Makes Up In Height For What It Lacks In Length

Oh, stormy stormy world, The days you were not swirled Around with mist and cloud, Or wrapped as in a shroud, And the sun’s brilliant ball
Taken Doubly: The Figure In The Doorway

The grade surmounted, we were ridi… Through level mountains nothing to… But scrub oak, scrub oak and the l… That kept the oaks from getting an… But as through the monotony we ran…
Two Or More: The Lesson For Today

If this uncertain age in which we… Were really as dark as I hear sag… And I convinced that they were re… I should not curse myself with it… But leaving not the chair I long…
The Hill Wife

Her Word One ought not to have to care So much as you and I Care when the birds come round the… To seem to say good—bye;
What Fifty Said..

When I was young my teachers were… I gave up fire for form till I wa… I suffered like a metal being cast… I went to school to age to learn t… Now when I am old my teachers are…
 1
Love and a Question

A Stranger came to the door at ev… And he spoke the bridegroom fair. He bore a green-white stick in his… And, for all burden, care. He asked with the eyes more than t…
 2
Stars

How countlessly they congregate O’er our tumultuous snow, Which flows in shapes as tall as t… When wintry winds do blow!— As if with keenness for our fate,
New Hampshire

I met a lady from the South who s… (You won’t believe she said it, bu… ‘None of my family ever worked, or… A thing to sell.’ I don’t suppose… Much matters. You may work for al…
Reluctance

Out through the fields and the woo… And over the walls I have wended; I have climbed the hills of view And looked at the world, and desce… I have come by the highway home,
For Once, Then, Something

Others taunt me with having knelt… Always wrong to the light, so neve… Deeper down in the well than where… Gives me back in a shining surface… Me myself in the summer heaven god…
 1
Summer, by Max Weber
The Figure a Poem Makes

Abstraction is an old story with the philosophers, but it has been like a new toy in the hands of the artists of our day. Why can’t we have any one quality of poetry we choose by itself...
 1
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