Robert Frost

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

Robert Frost Poems

If you see a poem only with title, it is listed that way because of copyright reasons.
41. The Door In The Dark 1/27/2015
42. Lodged 11/21/2014
43. The Onset 1/8/2015
44. A Hillside Thaw 3/11/2016
45. Acceptance 3/10/2016
46. A Star In A Stoneboat 1/15/2015
47. The Peaceful Shepherd 12/4/2014
48. A Peck of Gold 2/14/2016
49. Blue-Butterfly Day 12/12/2014
50. The Freedom Of The Moon 2/2/2015
51. A Girl's Garden 2/3/2015
52. In Equal Sacrifice 3/29/2010
53. The Master Speed 9/14/2013
54. An Encounter 3/11/2016
55. The Code—heroics 3/29/2010
56. In A Vale 3/29/2010
57. The Axe-Helve 3/29/2010
58. Iota Subscript 3/30/2010
59. Iris By Night 3/30/2010
60. The Fear 3/29/2010
61. The Black Cottage 3/29/2010
62. The Bonfire 3/29/2010
63. What Fifty Said.. 3/29/2010
64. Plowmen 1/13/2003
65. The Impulse 3/29/2010
66. Range-Finding 1/3/2003
67. The Oft-Repeated Dream 3/30/2010
68. Waiting -- Afield At Dusk 3/29/2010
69. The Demiurge's Laugh 1/3/2003
70. Putting In The Seed 1/13/2003
71. One Step Backward Taken 1/3/2003
72. The Objection To Being Stepped On 3/29/2010
73. Pan With Us 1/13/2003
74. The Hill Wife 1/3/2003
75. Unharvested 3/8/2011
76. Departmental 3/29/2010
77. The Mountain 3/29/2010
78. The Line-Gang 1/13/2003
79. In Neglect 1/13/2003
80. The Gum-Gatherer 1/13/2003
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

Come In

As I came to the edge of the woods,
Thrush music -- hark!
Now if it was dusk outside,
Inside it was dark.

Too dark in the woods for a bird
By sleight of wing
To better its perch for the night,
Though it still could sing.

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