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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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Ten Mills: Pertinax

Let chaos storm! Let cloud shapes swarm! I wait for form.
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Dust always blowing about the town… Except when sea—fog laid it down, And I was one of the children tol… Some of the blowing dust was gold. All the dust the wind blew high
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Canis Major, Lepus, Columba Noachi and Cela Sculptoris, by Sidney Hall
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The great Overdog That heavenly beast With a star in one eye Gives a leap in the east. He dances upright
The Generations of Men

A governor it was proclaimed this… When all who would come seeking in… Ancestral memories might come toge… And those of the name Stark gathe… A rock-strewn town where farming h…
The Sound of the Trees

I wonder about the trees. Why do we wish to bear Forever the noise of these More than another noise So close to our dwelling place?
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The Soldier

He is that fallen lance that lies… That lies unlifted now, come dew,… But still lies pointed as it ploug… If we who sight along it round the… See nothing worthy to have been it…
Time Out: Time Out

It took that pause to make him rea… The mountain he was climbing had t… As of a book held up before his ey… (And was a text albeit done in pla… Dwarf cornel, gold-thread, and mai…
After Apple-Picking

My long two-pointed ladder’s stick… Toward heaven still, And there’s a barrel that I didn’… Beside it, and there may be two or… Apples I didn’t pick upon some bo…
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Was there even a cause too lost, Ever a cause that was lost too lon… Or that showed with the lapse of t… For the generous tears of youth an…
David and Abishag, by Pedro Américo
Taken Singly: Provide, Provide

The witch that came (the withered… To wash the steps with pail and ra… Was once the beauty Abishag, The picture pride of Hollywood. Too many fall from great and good
 3
The Telephone

“When I was just as far as I coul… From here today, There was an hour All still When leaning with my head against…
 1
A Patch of Old Snow

There’s a patch of old snow in a c… That I should have guessed Was a blow—away paper the rain Had brought to rest. It is speckled with grime as if
 3
The Valley’s Singing Day

The sound of the closing outside d… You made no sound in the grass wit… As far as you went from the door,… But you had awakened under the mor… The first song-bird that awakened…



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