Robert Frost

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

Comments about Robert Frost

  • Rookie - 0 Points Mary Cross (4/4/2013 3:55:00 PM)

    I am amazed at how many of his poems I remember and can recite in smaller/larger parts.

    182 person liked.
    203 person did not like.
  • Rookie - 61 Points Zhaleh Hour (3/25/2013 6:01:00 AM)

    He is a really great poet. I love his poems esp The road Not Taken. In my view our life in a way is the road not taken!

  • Rookie David Micheal Ecklund (3/18/2013 5:32:00 PM)

    Giggity giggity goo!

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  • Rookie Abraham Jeong (3/6/2013 8:29:00 PM)

    dont know about him very much

  • Rookie Lisa Smith (2/2/2013 11:59:00 PM)

    Robert Frost is a poet with something for everyone. He writes rhymed poetry as if it were natural, easy dialogue. He appeals to the best instincts of anyone and seems constantly to be climbing toward the infinite. Many of his poems are good enough to give me shivers. He will never become obsolete.

  • Rookie Bikash Kc (1/15/2013 10:57:00 PM)

    i have not read all poems of Frost but what i read are all impressive and real...

  • Rookie Ajaydev Vijayakumar (12/2/2012 8:42:00 AM)

    among a handful of creative poets Robert Frost poems are truly magnificent....

  • Rookie Vincent Ibekwe (11/28/2012 11:38:00 PM)

    Woods are lovely dark and deep
    But I have promises to keep...
    I love visual imagery. It's grand and evocative

  • Rookie Aideen Buckley (10/30/2012 3:34:00 PM)

    i think frost is a really good poet and all is poems r the best

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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