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Robert Frost

Robert Frost

Taken Singly: Voice Ways

Some things are never clear.
But the weather is clear tonight,
Thanks to a clearing rain.
The mountains are brought up near,
The stars are brought out bright.
Your old sweet-cynical strain
Would come in like you here:
“So we won’t say nothing is clear.”

#Americans #PulitzerPrize #XIXCentury #XXCentury #1936 #AFurtherRange

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Altre opere di Robert Frost...
The Times Table

More than halfway up the pass Was a spring with a broken drinkin… And whether the farmer drank or no… His mare was sure to observe the s… By cramping the wheel on a water-b…
Range

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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…
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One Or Two: Wilful Homing

It is getting dark and time he dre… But the blizzard blinds him to any… The storm gets down his neck in an… That sucks his breath like a wicke… The snow blows on him and off him,…
The Birthplace

Here further up the mountain slope Than there was every any hope, My father built, enclosed a spring… Strung chains of wall round everyt… Subdued the growth of earth to gra…
The Star-Splitter

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The Need of Being Versed in Country Things

The house had gone to bring again To the midnight sky a sunset glow. Now the chimney was all of the hou… Like a pistil after the petals go The barn opposed across the way,
Asking for Roses

A house that lacks, seemingly, mis… With doors that none but the wind… Its floor all littered with glass… It stands in a garden of old-fashi… I pass by that way in the gloaming…
On Going Unnoticed

As vain to raise a voice as a sigh In the tumult of free leaves on hi… What are you in the shadow of tree… Engaged up there with the light an… Less than the coral-root you know
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The heart can think of no devotion Greater than being shore to ocean— Holding the curve of one position, Counting an endless repetition.
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Taken Singly: On A Bird Singing In Its Sleep

A bird half wakened in the lunar n… Sang half way through its little i… Partly because it sang but once al… And that from no especial bush’s h… Partly because it sang ventriloqui…
The Cow in Apple Time

Something inspires the only cow of… To make no more of a wall than an… And think no more of wall—builders… Her face is flecked with pomace an… A cider syrup. Having tasted frui…
Our Singing Strength

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Taken Doubly: A Drumlin Woodchuck

One thing has a shelving bank, Another a rotting plank, To give it cozier skies And make up for its lack of size. My own strategic retreat
The Last Word of a Blue Bird

As I went out a Crow In a low voice said, 'Oh, I was looking for you. How do you do? I just came to tell you
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