Poems of Robert Frost
|44.||Going For Water||1/13/2003|
|45.||Good-bye, and Keep Cold||1/3/2003|
|49.||In a Disused Graveyard||1/3/2003|
|50.||In A Poem||1/20/2003|
|51.||In A Vale||3/29/2010|
|52.||In Equal Sacrifice||3/29/2010|
|53.||In Hardwood Groves||1/13/2003|
|56.||Into My Own||1/13/2003|
|58.||Iris By Night||3/30/2010|
|59.||Leaves Compared with Flowers||1/3/2003|
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