Treasure Island

Robert Frost

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

Comments about Robert Frost

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  • David Malek (4/26/2009 2:56:00 AM)

    The first line of 'For Once, Then, Something' should be:
    'Others taunt me for having knelt at well-curbs' and not 'taught' me as is printed here.

    24 person liked.
    65 person did not like.
  • p.a. noushad (4/4/2009 1:51:00 AM)

    Robert Frost's poetry deals with New England life and character.You deal with homely situations and your style is simple.The poems often show the poet's unusual power of observing little noticed details of natural objects and rural characters.

  • KR Silkenvoice (1/13/2009 7:26:00 PM)

    There is something very sensual about this poem, I think. I did a recording of it, if you are interested. http: //www.archive.org/details/RobertFrost-SilkenTent

  • Danzen D. (12/8/2008 8:15:00 AM)

    One great poet who describes the things around him, little as a mite or big as a storm, in a very wonderful way, being observant and adding his own response to these. Some of your poems are a bit challenging, appearing to be just that, but to feel what is in them, to see through them, you truly deserve the compliments for you. A very GREAT poet indeed.

  • p.a. noushad (10/24/2008 3:31:00 AM)

    your poems present both sides of nature.

  • Hira Ali (9/7/2008 3:26:00 PM)

    Robert Frost is amongst favourite poets of mine.He is eminent 20th century pastoral poet.He main focus is on nature.Majority of his poems are consize and contain a beautiful message in them.Frost had power due to his unconscious.In short, his poems are good enough to be liked by everyone.

  • Rohan R (7/29/2008 9:59:00 AM)

    Robert Frost is one of the naturalistic gifted poet that the
    poetry world ever produced.

  • p.a. noushad (7/14/2008 3:56:00 AM)

    I love your poems, you depict nature in a real form.

  • Rose Poto (6/19/2008 1:49:00 PM)

    It's 'one' luminary clock, not 'a' luminary clock.

  • p.a. noushad (6/14/2008 1:09:00 AM)

    your poems begins in simple and ends in wisdom.

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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