Robert Frost

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

Comments about Robert Frost

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  • Claude Solnik (3/27/2017 11:33:00 PM)

    Building Wall
    • (After Robert Frost’s Mending Wall)

    •Someone there is who truly loves a wall
    •That separates the sky from the earth under it

    •And rises boldly and blocks the mid-day sun
    •And divides north from south and east from west.

    •The work of legislators is a messy thing.
    •Society is in constant need of immediate repair.

    •But a wall is simple and obedient as a piece of stone.
    •The wall’s shadows leave no space for hiding.

    •The stones barely leave room for air between.
    •But it is real and strong as anything man has made.

    •Walls stand as monuments to those who leave them there.
    •While politicians argue endlessly on the hill,

    •A wall is a dream worthy of a builder’s mind.
    •It will divide us as we should be once again.

    •The wall will be the only thing we know
    •Thanks to shoulders that rise to build and reach

    •To build a wall that shall never fail or fall.
    •There are no spells and yet a strange balance

    •Comes from a wall forever as still as the earth turns.
    •We can hold stones and enjoy handling them

    •And build a wall as if we play a game.
    •And to those who say, they want a door,

    •I say, A wall is the most beautiful thing of all.
    •If God had built a wall around his orchard,

    •No snake would have slithered across the grass,
    •So anyone who doubts a wall, I tell him,

    •Remember good walls are better than good neighbors.
    •Winter may throw snow at it like thunder,

    •But a wall as beautiful as a bed
    •Lies down as if the world’s at rest, isn’t it?

    •Crows can fly over it, but there are no crows.
    •When I build a wall, I always know

    •Who I am walling in and walling out
    •Whether it be a true wall or a flimsy fence,

    •Someone there is who truly loves a wall.
    •That knows it is the illusion of a good defense.

    •The Democrats may protest, though I’d rather
    •Put them on the other side, if I could dare.

    •And wall out people whose ideas I’d like to stop.
    •But a wall I build is something that won’t be harmed.

    •It will stand for centuries, a monument to me.
    •Longer than words carved in the skin of trees.

    •It will last longer than a rally or a speech.
    •I am someone who truly loves to build a wall.

    •Because there is no such thing as a good neighbor anymore.

    Claude Solnik

  • Alex Sarich Alex Sarich (3/6/2017 11:26:00 AM)

    i have the complete works of Robert Frost and is one of my favorite poets.

  • Ferg Fred Ferg Fred (12/2/2016 6:45:00 AM)

    this is amazing his work is so good
    i agree

  • Earnest Gatuma Earnest Gatuma (11/2/2016 12:56:00 PM)

    I love this guy's poems.....so unique and original

  • Kristina Lu (9/22/2016 9:43:00 PM)

    I like it that is very meaningful.

  • Tapan M. Saren Tapan M. Saren (8/18/2016 1:06:00 AM)

    I love you sir.. You're my all time best poet.

  • Halin Roche (4/26/2016 10:20:00 AM)

    Great poet...

  • Josh Hartshorne (3/10/2016 2:05:00 PM)

    I have problems with expressing my feelings

  • Kelley Tom (1/26/2016 5:13:00 PM)

    Why is he #2? He should be #1

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

A Time To Talk

When a friend calls to me from the road
And slows his horse to a meaning walk,
I don't stand still and look around
On all the hills I haven't hoed,
And shout from where I am, What is it?
No, not as there is a time to talk.
I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground,
Blade-end up and five feet tall,
And plod: I go up to the stone wall

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