Robert Frost

(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963 / San Francisco)

Comments about Robert Frost

  • Freshman - 731 Points Josey Alfred (4/23/2015 2:14:00 AM)

    What a beauty,
    In this writ every thing is so much known to the others, the poet the road the wood the horse the lake, though it's dark every Thing is clear to all, even the horse has a question. Why stop here, no farm house, the horse ask?
    In fact frost has painted a very clear picture, even though he is in a hurry, for he has to go a long way.
    This is a great. Poem.

    3 person liked.
    2 person did not like.
  • Rookie - 29 Points Logan Reed (3/23/2015 5:27:00 PM)

    His poems are a true work of art. Nobody could replace his poetic genius. Nobody...

  • Rookie - 291 Points p.a. noushad (3/18/2015 8:46:00 PM)

    Robert Frost, some of your poems inspire me.

  • Rookie - 0 Points Gina Hayanan (3/15/2015 1:30:00 AM)

    The Road is my favorite poem from Robert Frost. It reminds me how I learn English literature

  • Rookie - 2 Points Aysegul Avcu (2/25/2015 6:47:00 AM)

    Nice

  • Rookie - 0 Points Zach Showgren (12/9/2014 4:18:00 PM)

    I love robert frost! ! ! ! ! ! ! a true inspiration

  • Rookie - 341 Points Wiley Wildcard (10/30/2014 3:35:00 PM)

    I guess you can say that he is my inspiration to write.

  • Rookie - 9 Points Srimayee Ganguly (10/7/2014 12:42:00 PM)

    whenever I'm exhausted or bored I just grab a copy of his poems that keeps me engrossed in his enchanted world -which is lovely, dark and deep

  • Rookie - 2 Points Jennifer Vail (9/22/2014 2:36:00 PM)

    i have a paper due on this author and william williams a compare and contrast paper and i am having a hard time doing so any ideas on this

  • Freshman - 558 Points Deniz Atay (8/29/2014 2:49:00 PM)

    it is impossible not to see the touch and vivid reflection of life in his poetry.. one of the greatest.

Best Poem of Robert Frost

The Road Not Taken

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

Read the full of The Road Not Taken

After Apple Picking

My long two-pointed ladder's sticking through a tree
Toward heaven still.
And there's a barrel that I didn't fill
Beside it, and there may be two or three
Apples I didn't pick upon some bough.
But I am done with apple-picking now.
Essence of winter sleep is on the night,
The scent of apples; I am drowsing off.
I cannot shake the shimmer from my sight

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