Wondrous Words

A Few Poems by Robert Frost

Here are some poems by Robert Frost and some history about him, too.
                         

Fireflies in the Garden

By Robert Frost

Here come real stars to fill the upper skies,

And here on earth come emulating flies,

That though they never equal stars in size,

(And they were never really stars at heart)

Achieve at times a very star-like start.

Only, of course, they can't sustain the part.

The Road Not Taken

By Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
A

nd looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

One Step Backward Taken

By Robert Frost

Not only sands and gravels

Were once more on their travels,

But gulping muddy gallons

Great boulders off their balance

Bumped heads together dully

And started down the gully.

Whole capes caked off in slices.

I felt my standpoint shaken

In the universal crisis.

But with one step backward taken

I saved myself from going.

A world torn loose went by me.

Then the rain stopped and the blowing,

And the sun came out to dry me.

Dust of Snow

By Robert Frost

The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree

Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.

Lodged 

By Robert Frost

The rain to the wind said,
'You push and I'll pelt.'
They so smote the garden bed
That the flowers actually knelt,
And lay lodged--though not dead.
I know how the flowers felt.

The Door in the Dark

By Robert Frost

In going from room to room in the dark,
I reached out blindly to save my face,
But neglected, however lightly, to lace
My fingers and close my arms in an arc.
A slim door got in past my guard,
And hit me a blow in the head so hard
I had my native simile jarred.
So people and things don't pair any more
With what they used to pair with before.

Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening

By Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.   
His house is in the village though;   
He will not see me stopping here   
To watch his woods fill up with snow.   

My little horse must think it queer   
To stop without a farmhouse near   
Between the woods and frozen lake   
The darkest evening of the year.   

He gives his harness bells a shake   
To ask if there is some mistake.   
The only other sound’s the sweep   
Of easy wind and downy flake.   

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,   
But I have promises to keep,   
And miles to go before I sleep,   
And miles to go before I sleep.

(The history below I found on Shmoop.com)
Robert Lee Frost was born in San Francisco, California, on 26 March 1874. His father, a journalist and New England transplant named William Prescott Frost, Jr., named his firstborn child after his personal hero, Robert E. Lee. (No word on what his mother, Isabelle Moodie, thought of her son's namesake.) Frost's younger sister Jeanie was born two years later. Their father, William Frost Jr., was a rough-around-the-edges journalist who drank hard, carried a pistol, and kept a jar of pickled bull testicles on his desk.

His father died when Frost was only eleven years old, so he moved with his mother and sister, Jeanie, to Lawrance, Massachusetts.

And, in December 1895, Elinor married him. They had many children together.
Frost purchased a farm in Franconia, New Hampshire. He soon accepted a teaching position at Amherst College, the first of many faculty appointments he held at American universities over the subsequent 45 years. Frost was almost as famous for teaching poetry as he was for writing it. When Frost accepted a summer teaching position in 1921 at the Bread Loaf School of English (Why did they name a school Bread Loaf? Weird.) at Middlebury College, where he taught for the next 42 years, he became the first ever writer-in-residence at a university. Frost was a well-liked instructor, peppering his lectures with jokes and anecdotes and encouraging students to find their individual voice, although he complained heartily about the particulars of teaching. He hated grading students' work. When a student wrote on a course evaluation that he hadn't gotten a damned thing out of the class, Frost awarded him a B. It would have been an A, Frost told a friend, if the student hadn't misspelled "damned."

Frost died in Boston on January 29, 1963 of complications from prostate surgery. He was buried at the Old Bennington Cemetery in Bennington, Vermont. His epitaph quotes the last line from his poem, "The Lesson for Today" (1942): "I had a lover's quarrel with the world."

                
And that's some Robert Frost for you. I posted one called Speck of Gold a little while ago, that one was also by Robert Frost. There are a lot more good ones by him, so I will deffinetly post more of his.

If you guys have any poets you like, or indivigual poems, or anything you've written, I'd love to put some of your suggestions in here!

Love you guys, stay strong,
     From the amazing creativegrace

Ps. My tablet (which I'm writting this on) is acting super weird right now and keeps putting letters and spaces in odd places, making this look weird. And it won't let me fix it.

I don't know if it's just me or if it apears like that on everyone else's devices or what.

I'm so sorry if it's jumping lines and leaving letters behind on your guy's stuff, I'm trying to fix it. If it isn't, please let me know so i can try to fix my device.
Thank you.