Robert Frost Poems

  • 1.  
    It is blue-butterfly day here in spring,
    And with these sky-flakes down in flurry on flurry There is more unmixed color on the wing
  • 2.  
    One misty evening, one another's guide,
    We two were groping down a Malvern side The last wet fields and dripping hedges home.
  • 3.  
    A neighbor of mine in the village
    Likes to tell how one spring When she was a girl on the farm, she did
  • 4.  
    I slumbered with your poems on my breast
    Spread open as I dropped them half-read through Like dove wings on a figure on a tomb
  • 5.  
    The buzz-saw snarled and rattled in the yard
    And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood, Sweet-scented stuff when the breeze drew across it.
  • 6.  
    Never have I been glad or sad
    That there was such a thing as bad. There had to be, I understood,
  • 7.  
    No speed of wind or water rushing by
    But you have speed far greater. You can climb Back up a stream of radiance to the sky,
  • 8.  
    The sentencing goes blithely on its way
    And takes the playfully objected rhyme As surely as it takes the stroke and time
  • 9.  
    God made a beatous garden
    With lovely flowers strown, But one straight, narrow pathway
  • 10.  
    It was too lonely for her there,
    And too wild, And since there were but two of them,
  • 11.  
    A dented spider like a snow drop white
    On a white Heal-all, holding up a moth Like a white piece of lifeless satin cloth -
  • 12.  
    My long two-pointed ladder's sticking through a tree
    Toward heaven still. And there's a barrel that I didn't fill
  • 13.  
    The rain to the wind said,
    'You push and I'll pelt.' They so smote the garden bed
  • 14.  
    For Lincoln MacVeagh
    Never tell me that not one star of all
  • 15.  
    'You ought to have seen what I saw on my way To the village, through Mortenson's pasture to-day: Blueberries as big as the end of your thumb, Real sky-blue, and heavy, and ready to drum In the cavernous pail of the first one to come! And all ripe together, not some of them green And some of them ripe! You ought to have seen! ' 'I don't know what part of the pasture you mean.' 'You know where they cut off the woodsâ??let me seeâ?? It was two years agoâ??or no! â??can it be No longer than that? â??and the following fall The fire ran and burned it all up but the wall.' 'Why, there hasn't been time for the bushes to grow. That's always the way with the blueberries, though: There may not have been the ghost of a sign Of them anywhere under the shade of the pine, But get the pine out of the way, you may burn The pasture all over until not a fern Or grass-blade is left, not to mention a stick, And presto, they're up all around you as thick And hard to explain as a conjuror's trick.' 'It must be on charcoal they fatten their fruit. I taste in them sometimes the flavour of soot. And after all really they're ebony skinned: The blue's but a mist from the breath of the wind, A tarnish that goes at a touch of the hand, And less than the tan with which pickers are tanned.' 'Does Mortenson know what he has, do you think? ' 'He may and not care and so leave the chewink To gather them for himâ??you know what he is. He won't make the fact that they're rightfully his An excuse for keeping us other folk out.' 'I wonder you didn't see Loren about.' 'The best of it was that I did. Do you know, I was just getting through what the field had to show And over the wall and into the road, When who should come by, with a democrat-load Of all the young chattering Lorens alive, But Loren, the fatherly, out for a drive.' 'He saw you, then? What did he do? Did he frown? ' 'He just kept nodding his head up and down. You know how politely he always goes by. But he thought a big thoughtâ??I could tell by his eyeâ?? Which being expressed, might be this in effect: 'I have left those there berries, I shrewdly suspect, To ripen too long. I am greatly to blame.'' 'He's a thriftier person than some I could name.' 'He seems to be thrifty; and hasn't he need, With the mouths of all those young Lorens to feed? He has brought them all up on wild berries, they say, Like birds. They store a great many away. They eat them the year round, and those they don't eat They sell in the store and buy shoes for their feet.' 'Who cares what they say? It's a nice way to live, Just taking what Nature is willing to give, Not forcing her hand with harrow and plow.' 'I wish you had seen his perpetual bowâ?? And the air of the youngsters! Not one of them turned, And they looked so solemn-absurdly concerned.' 'I wish I knew half what the flock of them know Of where all the berries and other things grow, Cranberries in bogs and raspberries on top Of the boulder-strewn mountain, and when they will crop. I met them one day and each had a flower Stuck into his berries as fresh as a shower; Some strange kindâ??they told me it hadn't a name.' 'I've told you how once not long after we came, I almost provoked poor Loren to mirth By going to him of all people on earth To ask if he knew any fruit to be had For the picking. The rascal, he said he'd be glad To tell if he knew. But the year had been bad. There had been some berriesâ??but those were all gone. He didn't say where they had been. He went on: 'I'm sureâ??I'm sure'â??as polite as could be. He spoke to his wife in the door, 'Let me see, Mame, we don't know any good berrying place? ' It was all he could do to keep a straight face. 'If he thinks all the fruit that grows wild is for him, He'll find he's mistaken. See here, for a whim, We'll pick in the Mortensons' pasture this year. We'll go in the morning, that is, if it's clear, And the sun shines out warm: the vines must be wet. It's so long since I picked I almost forget How we used to pick berries: we took one look round, Then sank out of sight like trolls underground, And saw nothing more of each other, or heard, Unless when you said I was keeping a bird Away from its nest, and I said it was you. 'Well, one of us is.' For complaining it flew Around and around us. And then for a while We picked, till I feared you had wandered a mile, And I thought I had lost you. I lifted a shout Too loud for the distance you were, it turned out, For when you made answer, your voice was as low As talkingâ??you stood up beside me, you know.' 'We sha'n't have the place to ourselves to enjoyâ?? Not likely, when all the young Lorens deploy. They'll be there to-morrow, or even to-night. They won't be too friendlyâ??they may be politeâ?? To people they look on as having no right To pick where they're picking. But we won't complain. You ought to have seen how it looked in the rain, The fruit mixed with water in layers of leaves, Like two kinds of jewels, a vision for thieves.'

  • 16.  
    I wonder about the trees.
    Why do we wish to bear Forever the noise of these
  • 17.  
    A speck that would have been beneath my sight
  • 18.  
    At the end of the row
    I stepped on the toe Of an unemployed hoe.
  • 19.  
    An ant on the tablecloth
    Ran into a dormant moth Of many times his size.
  • 20.  
    Nothing to say to all those marriages!
    She had made three herself to three of his. The score was even for them, three to three.
  • 21.  
    A dented spider like a snow drop white
    On a white Heal-all, holding up a moth Like a white piece of lifeless satin cloth -
  • 22.  
    This saying good-bye on the edge of the dark
    And cold to an orchard so young in the bark Reminds me of all that can happen to harm
  • 23.  
    He would declare and could himself believe
    That the birds there in all the garden round From having heard the daylong voice of Eve
  • 24.  
    I've tried the new moon tilted in the air
    Above a hazy tree-and-farmhouse cluster As you might try a jewel in your hair.
  • 25.  
    He thought he kept the universe alone;
    For all the voice in answer he could wake Was but the mocking echo of his own
  • 26.  
    In going from room to room in the dark,
    I reached out blindly to save my face, But neglected, however lightly, to lace
  • 27.  
  • 28.  
    to say to him,
    'How is the wife, Paul?'- and he'd disappear.Some said it was because be bad no wife,
  • 29.  
    We dance round in a ring and suppose,
    But the Secret sits in the middle and knows.
  • 30.  
    The great Overdog
    That heavenly beastWith a star in one eye
  • 31.  
    When I was young my teachers were the old.
    I gave up fire for form till I was cold.I suffered like a metal being cast.
  • 32.  
    to line the figures in
    Between the dotted stars,
  • 33.  
    A scent of ripeness from over a wall.
    And come to leave the routine roadAnd look for what had made me stall,
  • 34.  
    All out of doors looked darkly in at him
    Through the thin frost, almost in separate stars,That gathers on the pane in empty rooms.
  • 35.  
    Something inspires the only cow of late
    To make no more of a wall than an open gate,And think no more of wall-builders than fools.
  • 36.  
    She had no saying dark enough
    For the dark pine that keptForever trying the window latch
  • 37.  
    There were three in the meadow by the brook,
    Gathering up windrows, piling haycocks up, With an eye always lifted toward the west,
  • 38.  
    Seek not in me the big I capital,
    Not yet the little dotted in me seek.If I have in me any I at all,
  • 39.  
    The land was ours before we were the land's.
    She was our land more than a hundred yearsBefore we were her people. She was ours
  • 40.  
    Age saw two quiet children
    Go loving by at twilight, He knew not whether homeward,
  • 41.  
    now lets down as white
    As may be in dark woods, and with a songIt shall not make again all winter long
  • 42.  
    I've known ere now an interfering branch
    Of alder catch my lifted axe behind me. But that was in the woods, to hold my hand
  • 43.  
    Back out of all this now too much for us,
    Back in a time made simple by the lossOf detail, burned, dissolved, and broken off
  • 44.  
    Lovers, forget your love,
    And list to the love of these,She a window flower,
  • 45.  
    Afield at Dusk

  • 46.  
    Out of the mud two strangers came
    And caught me splitting wood in the yard,And one of them put me off my aim
  • 47.  
    Love and forgetting might have carried them
    A little further up the mountain sideWith night so near, but not much further up.
  • 48.  
    Tree at my window, window tree,
    My sash is lowered when night comes on;But let there never be curtain drawn
  • 49.  
    Come with rain. O loud Southwester!
    Bring the singer, bring the nester;Give the buried flower a dream;
  • 50.  
    Love at the lips was touch
    As sweet as I could bear;And once that seemed too much;
Total 173 poems written by Robert Frost

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The Wounded Heart
 by Robert Herrick

Come bring your sampler, and with art
Draw in't a wounded heart
And dropping here and there:
Not that I think that any dart
Can make your's bleed a tear,
Or pierce it anywhere;
Yet do it to this end: that I
May by

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