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Robert Frost

Robert Frost

In Neglect

They leave us so to the way we took, As two in whom them were proved mistaken, That we sit sometimes in the wayside nook, With michievous, vagrant, seraphic look, And try if we cannot feel forsaken.

#Americans #PulitzerPrize #XIXCentury #XXCentury #1913 #ABoy'sWill

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Altre opere di Robert Frost...
Waiting Afield at Dusk

What things for dream there are wh… Moving amond tall haycocks lightly… I enter alone upon the stubbled fi… From which the laborers’ voices la… And in the antiphony of afterglow
Spoils of the Dead

Two fairies it was On a still summer day Came forth in the woods With the flowers to play. The flowers they plucked
The Thatch

Out alone in the winter rain, Intent on giving and taking pain. But never was I far out of sight Of a certain upper-window light. The light was what it was all abou…
The Demiurge’s Laugh

It was far in the sameness of the… I was running with joy on the Dem… Though I knew what I hunted was n… It was just as the light was begin… That I suddenly heard—all I neede…
The church of Auvers-sur-Oise, seen from the apse, by Vincent Van Gogh
Ghost House

I Dwell in a lonely house I know That vanished many a summer ago, And left no trace but the cellar w… And a cellar in which the daylight… And the purple-stemmed wild raspbe…
 1
Thaw on the Way, by Julius von Klever
Taken Singly: There Are Roughly Zones

We sit indoors and talk of the col… And every gust that gathers streng… Is a threat to the house. But the… We think of the tree. If it never… We’ll know, we say, that this was…
 3
Sitting by a Bush in Broad Sunlight

When I spread out my hand here to… I catch no more than a ray To feel of between thumb and finge… No lasting effect of it lingers. There was one time and only the on…
 1
A Minor Bird

I have wished a bird would fly awa… And not sing by my house all day; Have clapped my hands at him from… When it seemed as if I could bear… The fault must partly have been in…
 3
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
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…
The Black Cottage

We chanced in passing by that afte… To catch it in a sort of special p… Among tar-banded ancient cherry tr… Set well back from the road in ran… The little cottage we were speakin…
The Impulse

It was too lonely for her there, And too wild, And since there were but two of th… And no child, And work was little in the house,
 1
An Encounter

ONCE on the kind of day called “… When the heat slowly hazes and the… By its own power seems to be undon… I was half boring through, half cl… A swamp of cedar. Choked with oil…
 1
The Forest in Winter at Sunset, by Théodore Rousseau
An Old Man’s Winter Night

All out-of-doors looked darkly in… Through the thin frost, almost in… That gathers on the pane in empty… What kept his eyes from giving bac… Was the lamp tilted near them in h…
 1
Blue-Butterfly Day

It is blue-butterfly day here in s… And with these sky-flakes down in… There is more unmixed color on the… Than flowers will show for days un… But these are flowers that fly and…
 2



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