Robert Frost

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

Comments about Robert Frost

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    47 person liked.
    95 person did not like.
  • Abraham Jeong (3/6/2013 8:29:00 PM)

    dont know about him very much

  • 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.

  • 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...

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

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

  • 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

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

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

  • Pckdragon Anonymous (10/20/2012 8:31:00 PM)

    496 people dislike Robert Frost : (

  • Charles Vaughn (9/3/2012 9:44:00 PM)

    Does anyone here wonder why Frost never won the Nobel Prize for literature? Frost's poetry is basically conservative (lower case c) - poetry that touches the basic and enduring nature of we humans.

  • Min Thapa (9/2/2012 8:14:00 PM)

    Realy impressing poet

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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