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Robert Frost

Robert Frost

Ten Mills: Not All There

I turned to speak to God
About the world’s despair;
But to make bad matters worse
I found God wasn’t there.
 
God turned to speak to me
(Don’t anybody laugh)
God found I wasn’t there—
At least not over half.

#AmericanWriters #PulitzerPrize #1936 #AFurtherRange

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Other works by Robert Frost...
Blueberries

“You ought to have seen what I sa… To the village, through Mortenson… Blueberries as big as the end of y… Real sky-blue, and heavy, and read… In the cavernous pail of the first…
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A Dance to the Music of Time, by Nicolas Poussin
Quantula: The Secret Sits

We dance round in a ring and suppo… But the Secret sits in the middle…
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The Wood

Out walking in the frozen swamp on… I paused and said, “I will turn b… No, I will go on farther—and we s… The hard snow held me, save where… One foot went through. The view w…
A Passing Glimpse

To Ridgely Torrence On Last Looking into His 'Hesper… I often see flowers from a passing… That are gone before I can tell w… I want to get out of the train and…
One Or Two: Never Again Would Bird’s Song Be the Same

He would declare and could himself… That the birds there in all the ga… From having heard the daylong voic… Had added to their own an oversoun… Her tone of meaning but without th…
The Runaway

Once when the snow of the year was… We stopped by a mountain pasture t… A little Morgan had one forefoot… The other curled at his breast. H… And snorted at us. And then he ha…
Plowmen

A plow, they say, to plow the snow… They cannot mean to plant it, no— Unless in bitterness to mock At having cultivated rock.
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…
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Almond blossom, by Vincent van Gogh
Taken Singly: Leaves Compared With Flowers

A tree’s leaves may be ever so goo… So may its bar, so may its wood; But unless you put the right thing… It never will show much flower or… But I may be one who does not car…
Taken Doubly: The White-Tailed Hornet

The white-tailed hornet lives in a… That floats against the ceiling of… The exit he comes out at like a bu… Is like the pupil of a pointed gun… And having power to change his aim…
One Or Two: All Revelation

A head thrusts in as for the view, But where it is it thrusts in from Or what it is it thrusts into By that Cyb’laean avenue, And what can of its coming come,
Taken Singly: They Were Welcome to Their Belief

Grief may have thought it was grie… Care may have thought it was care. They were welcome to their belief, The overimportant pair. No, it took all the snows that clu…
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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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Mowing

There was never a sound beside the… And that was my long scythe whispe… What was it it whispered? I knew… Perhaps it was something about the… Something, perhaps, about the lack…
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…



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